Beneath the Sheets

by Shandi Boyes

  Sensing my presence, he spins on his heels to face me. I take a step backward when I see the despondent look on his stern face. His eyes are darker than I remember and his jaw more set. The veins in his neck thrum as he roams his thinly slit eyes over my face. He looks like he wants to kill me. Rightfully so, he should.

  Exhaling a deep breath, I pace into the living room. My steps are hesitant, weighed down by the guilt my shoulders are carrying. I place the keys to my apartment and Chevelle onto the wrought iron and glass coffee table in the middle of the room. Although my baby was initially Jorgie’s car, it was nothing but worthless scrap metal before Isaac had it rebuilt, so it belongs to him. My hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans, removing my wallet. Isaac watches my every movement, but doesn’t speak a word. He doesn’t need to. His eyes are relaying his disappointment and anger. My firing.

  Isaac’s eyes drop to my hands when I remove the first check he gave me in the limousine over five years ago. After everything he did for my family and me, I couldn’t bring myself to cash it, no matter how tempting the figure written down was. After placing the check next to the keys, I dip my chin in farewell and amble to the door, cowardly walking away without saying goodbye since my mouth is refusing to relinquish any words.

  Isaac’s hand shoots out, seizing my arm and stopping my brisk strides. He grips my arm tight enough to display his strength, but not enough to warrant me to react. I wouldn’t react, anyway. I deserve any punishment he wants to dish. His nostrils flare as his eyes burn into mine, searing my soul with their furious heat. Nothing but pain reflects in his uniquely colored eyes. They issue more punishment than any fists or words ever could. My betrayal cut him deep. His eyes are his battle wounds. My brows furrow when he releases me from his grip and strides toward the master suite of my apartment, his steps fast and efficient. I expected a much harsher punishment.

  Once he enters the main bedroom, I slip out the front door of my apartment and walk down the hall, not once looking back on my old life.

  Hugo Jones is now dead.

  My brows meet my hairline when I step onto the sidewalk of my apartment building and discover Hunter’s Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat parked at the curb. The passenger window glides down before his scruff-covered face pops into frame.

  “Get in,” he says, his tone rough.

  When I slip into the passenger seat, Hunter slams his foot down on the accelerator, showcasing his car’s 707 horsepower motor. After cracking sixty miles in under three seconds, Hunter flicks his eyes between the road and me. Even with a thick beard covering his jaw, I can’t miss the twinge inflicting his jawline.

  When we reach the T intersection at Tivot, his eyes glide to me. “Airport or train station?”

  I smirk and shake my head. “How do you know I’m leaving?” Running.

  “Come on, Hugo. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.” Hunter responds, running his hand along his beard. “You knew he’d be watching.”

  He’s always watching.

  When Hunter takes a left, failing to signal, a motorist beeps his horn and curses.

  “You couldn’t have just quit? You had to force Isaac to fire you. It was a stupid move, Hugo. You know what he's like with Izzy. You’re lucky you’re still breathing.”

  “I have a son,” I blurt out, no longer able to stand the disappointment in Hunter’s eyes.

  Hunter may be my supervisor, but he's also my friend. That is a hard title for any man to achieve since I’ve spent the last five years being a ghost.

  Hunter remains quiet for the next five miles. His brows are knitted tightly and his eyelids are twitching, but his lips remain rigid.

  After a beat, he says. “Why didn’t you just tell Isaac that?”

  “You don’t think he has enough on his plate? He’s been dragged through the trenches the past month,” I answer, my tone rough from the guilt strangling my vocal cords.

  “So you thought you’d add to it?” Hunter interjects.

  My eyes rocket to Hunter’s. His dark eyes stare into mine, revealing what I already know. I just added more drama to Isaac’s already drama-filled life.

  Fuck!

  “I don’t work well under pressure,” I mumble, running my hand over my head. “I tend to charge first, ask questions later.”

  Hunter pulls his car into the curb at the front of the domestic terminal at Ravenshoe Airport. He clicks the locks into place, trapping me in the car with him. “Take a week. Sort your shit out with your family, then come back here and wade through the shit you just dumped.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t”

  “Why not?” Hunter interrupts, his tone clipped.

  “I can’t do both. My family is over seven hundred miles away. I already missed four years of my son’s life, I’m not willing to miss anymore.”

  “So you want to be a dad?”

  I nod.

  “A good dad?”

  I nod again.

  “Then lead by example, Hugo. Show your son how to do the right thing. You owe Isaac—”

  “You don’t think I know what I owe him?” My question booms around Hunter’s car. “I know what I owe him. I owe him everything, but I owe my family more.”

  His hard-hearted eyes stare into mine. “There's no reason you can’t have both. Be a man. Talk to Isaac. Don’t thank him for everything he has done for you by messing around with the only good thing he has in his life.”

  A barrel of emotions pummel into me. I owe Isaac the world. Without him, I'd be dead, but I won’t have a life worth living without my family. Without Ava. I barely survived the past five years without her, but now, knowing what I’m missing, I can’t live without her and Joel. I can’t give them up.

  “Besides, how are you supposed to care for your son if you don’t have a job? You’re a ghost. A phantom. No one will hire a dead man.”

  Shit, I didn’t even consider that. How can I entice Ava away from a man who has more money than sense with a dwindling bank account and no employment prospective? I know Ava doesn’t love Marvin. She doesn’t look at him the way she used to look at me. Not the slightest, but she's stuck between a rock and a hard place, struggling between putting her heart before the welfare of her son. Our son.

  I understand her dilemma. It’s why I stupidly kissed Izzy. When I first kissed her it was out of anger, furious her childish antics were risking my chances of seeing my son, but the instant I pressed my lips against hers, it dawned on me that Isaac would be watching. He's always watching. Instead of manning up and talking to Isaac, I took the coward’s way out, doing what he hates. I forced his arm. Kissing Izzy was my way out. She was my golden ticket home.

  I’ll admit it, I was shocked as hell when Izzy kissed me back. It was only after a sleepless night did I realize why she did it. She was hurting, believing Isaac had left her for Ophelia. She wanted him to experience the pain she was feeling. It worked. I’ve never seen Isaac look so dejected. I never want to see that look again. Not on Isaac’s face and not on Ava’s. I’ll make this right, for both of them. I have to.

  Noticing my defiant stance weakening, Hunter continues with his campaign. “Take a week, then come back and we’ll talk it out like real men. There's no reason you can’t have both your family and your Ravenshoe family.”

  My lips twist. “That sounds like an ideal situation, but Isaac’s not going--”

  “Don’t worry about Isaac, I’ve got him covered,” Hunter interrupts, his tone cocky.

  I arch my brow. “Who the fuck are you and where's the real Hunter Kane? No one has Isaac covered.”

  It is only when I stare into Hunter’s shimmering eyes does the real reality hit.

  “Who has your dick wrapped around their little finger?” I ask, my tone not matching the heaviness of our conversation.

  I can’t help it, though. Hunter’s longest relationship is the length of time it takes him to fuck her and walk her to the door. He’s never had a girlfriend. Not once, but I can’t miss the glimmer in his eyes. It
is the same glimmer my eyes get every time I see Ava.

  I chuckle when Hunter leans over, unlocks the passenger door and barges me in the shoulder, shoving me out of his car. A winded grunt escapes my lips when my backside crashes onto the sidewalk. Even with a jolt of pain rocketing through my shoulder, a broad grin etches on my face.

  “Are you in love?” I jest, drawing out the last word in a long, husky drawl.

  Hunter grabs my duffle bag from the backseat of his car and throws it into my chest, winding me with his brutal force.

  “Get your ass back here in a week,” he directs sternly, glaring into my eyes.

  I smile, loving that I’ve finally discovered Hunter’s weak spot. It’s taken me over four years to find it.

  “Is it true what they say about beards? Can you smell her hours later?”

  Hunter’s teeth grit before he throws open the driver’s side door and peels out of his car. I scramble off the floor and hotfoot it to the entrance of the airport. I have a leering grin stretched across my face and am feeling the most carefree I’ve felt since tackling Ava to the floor three days ago.

  Realizing he has no chance of catching my long strides, Hunter returns to his car and leans on the front quarter panel.

  “I’ll see you in a week,” he says, his tone displaying it is a demand, not a request.

  I nod. “I’ll be back.”

  Just as I enter the double automatic doors of the airport, Hunter calls my name. Tilting my torso out, I stare at his chortling face.

  “You have a week, Hugo; can you woo her in a week?”

  A cocky grin etches on my mouth. “I’ve done it in less.”

  Eighteen

  Ava

  “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and rou--”

  Joel’s cheerful song stops halfway down the sidewalk, closely followed by his rushed footsteps. I adjust the heavy bag of groceries on my hip and lower my eyes to him. His eyes are opened wide; he has a broad grin stretched across his face, and the flutter of his pulse is pulsating through our joined hands.

  “Daddy!” he yells at the top of his lungs before releasing his grip on my hand and charging toward our house.

  My breath snags halfway to my lungs when my eyes follow Joel sprinting across the snow-covered ground, and I spot Hugo standing on the patio. He came back. He's wearing a pair of low-riding jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He would have to be freezing as we had a fresh sprinkling of snow overnight, covering the ground with a thick layer of sleet. When Hugo notices Joel rushing down the path, he pushes off the patio and strides toward him, his steps long and urgent. Tears pool in my eyes when Hugo scoops Joel up in his arms and spins him around and around on the concrete path. Joel has missed Hugo so much the past three days, obviously just as much as Hugo has been missing him. Warmth blooms across my chest when I hear Joel’s beautiful giggle bellowing out of him. Nothing in the world sounds as beautiful as Joel’s infectious giggles.

  I take that back. There's nothing more beautiful than Hugo and Joel laughing together. Their laugh is very similar, except Hugo’s is deeper and rumbling. Core-shattering. Hugo puts Joel on his feet, gathers his knocked-off beanie from the ground and pops it back on Joel’s head.

  “Hey, buddy, I’ve missed you so much,” Hugo says, adjusting the collar on Joel’s coat to protect his neck from the chilly winter winds.

  Hugo’s eyes lift to mine when I walk down to the sidewalk.

  “Hey,” he greets me, his voice softer, somewhat reserved.

  “Hey, you’re back sooner than I expected.”

  He smiles a tight grin before nodding.

  “Here, let me take that,” he offers, gathering the grocery bag sitting on my hip.

  “Thanks,” I say, grateful to lighten the load.

  When I walk to the front door, Hugo and Joel follow behind me, hand in hand. After pushing the key into the lock, I sweep the door open and gesture for them to enter. When Joel goes to walk inside, Hugo tugs his arm gently, pulling him back to stand beside him. Joel’s brows stitch as he cranks his neck to peer at his dad.

  “Remember?” Hugo says, gesturing his eyes sneakily to me.

  Joel’s face lights up before he eagerly nods. My heart melts when he says, “Ladies first,” his little voice stuttering in excitement.

  “Why thank you, kind gentlemen.”

  When I sashay into the foyer like I'm a crowned princess, Joel laughs hysterically. “You’re silly, Mommy.”

  His laughter switches to an excited squeal when he notices a wrapped present sitting on a duffle bag on the porch. From the shape alone, I can easily perceive it is a football. Joel’s eyes shoot to Hugo. When Hugo nods, shredded pieces of wrapping paper fly in all directions. Joel holds the football close to his chest like it is the Heisman trophy itself and not a regular leather stitched football.

  “Can we play?”

  Hugo shifts his eyes to me, seeking permission.

  I smile and nod. “Go get changed into some yard clothes first.”

  “Okay,” Joel replies before running into his room.

  When he disappears down the corridor, Hugo chuckles. “Does he ever walk?”

  I laugh. “No, he doesn’t.”

  Hugo shadows me into the kitchen. When he sets down the bag of groceries on the counter, I pack away the perishable items in the fridge. Hugo props his hip on the counter and silently watches me. I eye him with curiosity, surprised by his quietness. Although his happiness at seeing Joel again is beaming out of him, there's something clouding his eyes, dampening their usual spark.

  “Are you okay?” I query, no longer able to harbor my curiosity.

  Hugo has always been a communicator. He’s never had trouble expressing himself, but I know something is bothering him, and his reserved composure is setting me on edge. Hugo tilts his torso out of the kitchen, twists his neck and peers down the hall. When he returns his anxious eyes to me, my heart beats wildly. I set the carton of eggs on the table in the middle of the kitchen and pace closer to him.

  “I’ve already missed so much time with him, Ava. Please don’t make me miss anymore,” he pleads, his words low and full of dread.

  My brows furrow as quickly as my heart slithers into my gut. I'm utterly confused by his statement.

  “I’ll do anything you want to prove to you I’m not going to break his heart. That I won’t break your heart… again. I just need you to give me a chance,” he vows, his begging eyes adding strength to his request.

  “I don’t understand what you're saying.”

  Hugo rubs a kink in the back of his neck before attempting to settle my confusion. “The paperwork you sent me.”

  My brows shoot into my hair. “I didn’t send you any paperwork,” I shake my head. “I don’t even know your address.”

  His Adams apple bobs up and down as his eyes bounce between mine. Remaining quiet, he walks to his duffle bag dumped at the entranceway and yanks down the zipper before pulling out a white envelope and walking back to me. He's gripping the envelope so tightly, it gets a crinkle down the middle. I can’t miss the shake of his hand as he passes the envelope to me. My heart beats wildly as I lift the flap and pull out a four page document. The more my eyes scan the official looking letter, the more my pupils widen. I snatch the envelope off the counter and roam my eyes over the address it was sent from. Blood roars into my ears. That son of a bitch!

  “Can you watch Joel?” I query, rushing into the hallway to gather my purse and keys.

  My eyes shift to my cell phone on the entranceway table. Normally, I'd take it with me everywhere I go, but ever since the “ghost” dropped it into the toilet bowl, it hasn’t been working. It fritzed at the exact same moment my answering machine went missing.

  Hugo shadows me as I move from the hallway to the garage. I'm so angry, my thighs shake with every step I take. When I reach the side of my car, Hugo stops my frantic pace by grabbing the tops of my arms. His confused eyes dance between mine, his concern growing by the minute.<
br />
  “I didn’t send you those forms,” I vow, returning his docile stare. “I'd never take your son away from you.”

  Hugo intakes a quick breath, seemingly astonished by my admission.

  “But I can’t fix this unless you let me go. Can you please watch Joel?” I ask again, peering into his anxious eyes.

  His eyes bounce between mine before he nods. I place a kiss his mouth and jump into my car. Hugo’s eyes expand when my heavy compression on the accelerator causes my tires to skid out of control in the ice-covered driveway. I raise my foot off the accelerator and inhale a deep, nerve-clearing breath. I’m not going to do anyone any good getting in an accident. Once I have a more rational head, I carefully push my foot down onto the accelerator, taking the necessary precautions required to drive safely in the snow. The panic marring Hugo’s face eases when I reverse out of the driveway without incident.

  When I enter the bustling main street of Rochdale, my eyes dart in all directions, seeking the first parking lot. I pull into an empty space across from my office building, not caring it is a handicapped space. I throw off my seatbelt and make a beeline for my office building across the street. The freezing cold air blowing in from the west does nothing to damper the fiery rage burning inside me. I throw open the glass door and rush into the building. Belinda’s head lifts from her computer monitor when I enter the office. Smiling a tight grin, I rush down the hall before taking the third door on the left. Not bothering to knock, I storm into Marvin’s office.

  My brisk strides stop and my breathing shallows, shell-shocked at the scene I’ve stumbled into. Oddly, my first response is relief. You’d think walking in on my fiancé in the midst of a sexual act would have my claws hackled and ready to pounce, but all I feel is relief. Sweet, heavenly relief.