Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  Ziggy Brown wanted all of his children named after him. Hence all the Zs in the family. It wasn’t until the trial that Zoe learned that Ziggy wasn’t even her father’s real first name. It was Theodore.

  For some reason this thought popped into her head as she left her rental car and walked up the weed-filled path to the front door of the place she’d called home for eighteen years.

  Only it wasn’t home anymore.

  Her hand hesitated as she went to knock. Giving in to both urges, she knocked once and twisted the handle to let herself in.

  Scent hit her first. The musty familiarity of worn furniture and the never truly clean carpet layered on top of each other like icing on cake. The added scent of a baby still in diapers reminded her Blaze lived there.

  The television blared to an empty living room. Zoe glanced to the left; the kitchen was void of people, too. “Hello?”

  She’d called her mom before coming over and knew Sheryl was going to be home.

  “Mom!”

  “Back here.”

  Zoe placed her purse on the coffee table, the same one she’d done her homework on as a kid . . . the same one she and the girls had sat around eating pizza and often drinking something they shouldn’t have been.

  Zoe followed the sound of her mom’s voice and found her in Zanya’s room, changing Blaze’s diaper.

  Sheryl wore ill-fitting clothes Zoe was sure she recognized, and Blaze was in nothing but a T-shirt and a diaper when her mom finished the job.

  “Look who is so big!” Zoe used a high-pitched voice and settled her eyes on her nephew.

  “I was wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.” There was jealousy in her voice.

  “Oh, Mom.” Zoe offered a one-arm hug and kissed her cheek.

  Blaze gave her a cheeky smile and kicked his feet when Sheryl sat him up.

  “Where is Zanya?”

  “Working. She got a job in Waterville at that burger joint.” That explained the lack of a car in the driveway.

  “It’s good she’s working.”

  Sheryl puffed out a breath. “Yeah, but now I’m babysitting.”

  Zoe could see the stress on her mom’s features. The woman had always looked ten years older than she was, but lately it seemed worse.

  She reached her arms out to Blaze, who happily took the opportunity to play with someone else. Zoe placed her lips to the top of his head the second she picked him up. He smelled fresh and innocent. Opposite of everything these four walls represented. “Hey, baby boy.”

  Sheryl took the reprieve and left the room with Zoe following.

  Zoe sat on the couch, watching Blaze study her. “You look like your mommy.” And he did . . . the dark hair that all of them had, dark eyes and slightly olive skin.

  Sheryl spoke to her from the open counter leading into the kitchen. “Let’s hope he doesn’t get fat like his deadbeat father.”

  “Mom!”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Yeah, but Blaze doesn’t need to grow up hearing that.”

  “He’s too young to understand.”

  “True, but you say it now and will continue when he’s three, when he does understand your words.”

  “By the time he’s three, Zanya and Mylo had best have their shit figured out and be on their own. I’m not doing this forever.”

  As much as her mom protested, she would never kick them out. She had a healthy fear of being alone.

  “If Zanya has a job, she’s figuring it out.”

  Sheryl huffed, unconvinced.

  “C’mon, Mom . . . no one understands better than you how hard it is to be a single parent.”

  “And I thought I taught all of you not to do it.”

  “Telling people not to have sex is like trying to hold back the tide. Zanya’s a smart girl, she’ll figure it out.”

  “Zanya’s just a baby and trying hard to fall into my footsteps with the wrong choices. At least I was married to your father.”

  This was not the defense Zoe expected from her mom. “Great help there! Nothing like getting your ass kicked weekly to remind you who to be loyal to.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Words died in Zoe’s mouth. How could she say that? “I was there, Mom. It was worse than bad. Zanya is better off on her own than hooking up with someone like Ziggy.” She didn’t honor the man by using the terms Dad or Father.

  “At least he pulled in money sometimes.”

  “Oh, my God! What the hell?” Blaze must have sensed the rising tension and started to fuss in Zoe’s lap. She didn’t know a lot about babies, but she had seen people bounce them on their knees, so she started to move her legs in an attempt to calm him.

  It worked.

  “He put you in the hospital more than once, Mom. None of us escaped his inability to hold his liquor.”

  “I’m sure all those years in prison have taught him a lesson.”

  Zoe felt her chest tighten. “What’s this all about? We haven’t talked about him in years.”

  Sheryl turned her back to Zoe in the kitchen, fiddled with something she couldn’t see. “I don’t know. I think Blaze reminded me of when you kids were little. It’s either harder now to raise babies or it wasn’t that bad then.”

  “Or maybe you’re just done playing mommy. It’s okay, ya know. You don’t have to take up where Zanya leaves off. It doesn’t make you a bad person or anything. Forgetting how bad it was when Ziggy was around is just stupid.”

  “Are you calling me stupid?”

  It always happened like this. They would be having a normal conversation, and when Zoe’s logic streamed into the conversation, Sheryl would somehow make it sound like Zoe was calling her names.

  “No, Mom! I’m not calling you stupid.” Blind . . . forgetful . . . but not stupid.

  “Not everyone has it as good as you do.”

  Talk about a sucker punch to the chest.

  Blaze started to cry.

  “I work hard to have it good.” Like she needed to explain that.

  “You cook.”

  It was her turn to feel like crying.

  An automatic swing Zoe had given as a gift to Zanya at her baby shower sat on the opposite side of the couch. Instead of continuing the pain, Zoe kissed her nephew and hooked him in. She turned the motion on and he instantly calmed.

  Since sticking around was only going to result in a full-blown fight, Zoe grabbed her purse off the coffee table and hitched it high on her shoulder.

  “Where are you going? You just got here.”

  “I’m going to get some supplies for all that cooking I do.”

  Sheryl stared in disapproval.

  “The engagement party starts at five. By all means, bring Blaze. There are lots of hands to hold him and give you the break you obviously need.” With that, Zoe turned on her heel and let the door close behind her.

  Instead of turning right out of the driveway, which would take her back to Miss Gina’s, she turned left and headed into town. She thought about stopping at the station to talk to Jo, but that wasn’t where she found consolation when it came to her mom. Yes, her BFFs listened, but it was always Luke who understood.

  Miller’s Auto Repair had been a cornerstone in River Bend long before Zoe was born.

  Mr. Miller was a robust man with a healthy laugh and loving smile. His size could scare a small child, but he was the biggest teddy bear she’d ever known. Mrs. Miller wasn’t a small woman either, but neither of them could be labeled as fat. She liked to cook and he liked to eat. It was a marriage made in heaven.

  Zoe pulled into the drive and parked beside the only tow truck in town.

  The heavy metal thumping inside the garage said Luke was around somewhere. When he wasn’t, Mr. Miller was prone to listening to country. The contrast between father and son always made her smile.

  Motor oil and the smell of tires brought a flood of memories. She’d seen her share of the inside of garages in Dallas, but none smelled quite like M
iller’s. There was an old pickup pulled inside with two feet sticking out from under it. Add a pair of ruby slippers and it might resemble an iconic movie. Nikes didn’t have the same effect.

  Zoe walked inside and bent down to see who belonged to the shoes.

  Sure enough, Luke lay on his back, his hands focused on something under the car, grease a part of his uniform. She allowed herself a brief moment of visual pleasure. Strong, lean body, muscles that rippled up his arms and across his chest. Even lying on his back, covered in grime, he was something to look at.

  Luke must have felt the weight of her stare.

  He didn’t jolt when he saw her, didn’t immediately scoot away from the car. He offered his seductive smile and said, “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  He lifted a finger, indicating he needed a minute, and turned back to his work.

  Zoe rose to her full height and glanced around the garage. She was about to lean on the bench when Mr. Miller poked his head around the corner. “Hey, Luke . . . whose car is in the—” He stopped talking when he saw her. “Well, look who is back in town!”

  Mr. Miller opened his arms and Zoe half ran into them.

  He lifted her off her feet and spun her in a full circle before setting her down.

  He did a quick once-over and said, “Goodness, girl, do you ever eat what you prepare?”

  She slapped a playful hand on his chest. “Good to see you, too.”

  He hugged her a second time while Luke slid out from under the car. “Do I get one of those?” he asked, his arms opened for her to step into them.

  “How dirty are those hands?” she asked, not because she cared but because that had been what she’d said all the time when they were in high school.

  Luke’s playful smile matched his father’s. “C’mere.”

  She did. And when he hugged her close, she didn’t feel the need to giggle and scream, she felt the need to sigh.

  “I missed you,” he said close to her ear so only she could hear.

  Before she could tell him she felt the same, he pulled away and looked past her smile. “Is everything okay?”

  He could always read her. “I had a fight with my mom,” she whispered.

  His firm hands gave her a reassuring squeeze before dropping to his sides. “Give me a minute to wash up.”

  “Okay.”

  Luke walked into the back of the shop, leaving her with his dad.

  “Luke says you’re buying a house in Dallas.” He turned down the music as he talked.

  “If I can ever find something that works.”

  “Don’t all houses work?”

  “Let me rephrase . . . if I find something that fits what I want.”

  Mr. Miller narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess, big kitchen.”

  “A must!”

  “Not too close to your neighbors.”

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  “Room for an herb garden?”

  She hadn’t thought of that . . . but yeah. Zoe nodded.

  “Sounds easy enough, what’s the problem?”

  “Nice neighborhoods equal huge homes. I can find a smaller place in a crappy part of town.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’ll find something.”

  “I’m sure you will, baby cakes. You’re not working too hard, I hope.”

  “Of course I am. Isn’t that what we all do?”

  He shrugged. “I’m glad you’re taking time off to visit us. I take it Mel and Wyatt are the reason for the visit.”

  “I couldn’t leave them with pigs in a blanket and boxed cookies for their engagement party, now could I?”

  “You’re more than just a meal ticket.”

  She knew that . . . but the food was a bonus.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He leaned forward. “Are you making those little shrimp puff thingies?”

  Zoe rolled her eyes and patted his belly. “Like you need them.”

  “True . . . but I’m not getting any younger, ya know. Don’t see you all that often.”

  She loved the feeling of being wanted. “I have ya covered, Mr. M.”

  He winked, just the way Luke did.

  “Are you harassing her, Dad?” Luke had changed his shirt and run a comb through his hair. Even his hands were cleaned from all the grime and grease.

  “Just helping her out with menu options.”

  “Can I count on Mrs. M’s banana cream pie?”

  “I’ll let her know you have a special request. Maybe get a few pounds on those bones of yours.”

  Such a contrast between Luke’s parents and her mom . . . it made her both happy and extremely sad.

  Sensing the shift in her mood, Luke took her arm. “I’m taking a coffee break,” he told his father.

  “You kids have fun. I have things covered here.”

  Instead of leading her back to the rental car, Luke pulled her toward his bike.

  She hadn’t been on the back of the thing since she was eighteen.

  He handed her a lone helmet and straddled the bike.

  Zoe popped on the helmet and tightened the straps without words before climbing up behind Luke.

  The bike roared to life and she let her arms crawl around Luke’s waist.

  As they pulled out of the parking lot and onto Main Street, everything inside her clicked. And for the first time since she returned to River Bend, Zoe felt completely at home.

  Chapter Seven

  The back of Grayson’s farm was a normal hangout spot when they were kids . . . so were the back of the bleachers, the back of his truck, the back of Miss Gina’s B and B . . . but the farm was far out of town and away from prying eyes. Also, a wooded spot separated the farm from the cliffs that jutted down to the ocean. The trees kept the wind off the water from being unbearable, and the moisture had always helped Grayson’s crops back when the man actually planted them.

  Feeling Zoe’s arms around him as he drove to a place they were both familiar with warmed him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

  She was hurting. And true to Zoe fashion, she came to him when she was. At least that was how it had been when they were kids. Even last year, during their high school reunion, she’d broken away from the party twice and needed to bend his ear. She always said he was a good listener. As a kid, he never offered advice on how to fix her problems. How could he? They were just that, kids. He feared now he would have advice she wouldn’t want to hear. He’d always wanted to fix her problems growing up . . . now that he was older, he felt like maybe he could.

  He brought his bike to a stop and cut the engine.

  Zoe didn’t move. “It hasn’t changed.”

  “Trees are a little bigger.”

  She released her arms from his waist, her warmth instantly missed. She shook her hair out when she set the helmet aside.

  “Remember homecoming?”

  How could he ever forget? He’d planned to go to the dance, then take a trip to the place they were standing . . . he’d even pitched a tent with blankets to offer some protection against the cold if they ended up naked. Then Jo showed up more than a little drunk, her date completely hammered. Mel had driven them and her date was utterly sober. The six of them ended up snuggled in a four-man tent with no one getting lucky.

  “You were so mad.”

  “I was not.”

  “Were too. Jo was out of control back then. Hard to believe how much she’s changed.”

  Luke glanced up into the thick of the pine trees. “Oh, I don’t know. She looked a little more like herself with you in Dallas.”

  “Her badge is a little like a noose around her neck.”

  “I’ve always thought the same thing. She makes a damn fine cop, though.”

  “Still happy she did it . . . the whole sheriff thing. The alternative would have been bad.”

  He agreed but didn’t want to continue talking about Jo. He wanted to know what was eating at Zoe. “What happened with your mom?”

  Luke leaned
against a tree while Zoe recounted the play-by-play of her brief visit with Sheryl. He knew how passionate Zoe’s hatred for her dad was, so hearing that part of her story gave him pause. The real killer was hearing about Sheryl’s complete disregard for all of Zoe’s hard work. She took chances, had student loans that put her though culinary school. The woman worked her butt off and deserved more respect than her mother offered.

  “You’re more than just a cook,” he told her.

  “I know that. But it hurt. When will her words no longer hurt, Luke? I’m a grown woman.”

  “And she’s your mother. We’re all kids around our parents at times.”

  “What was that shit about Ziggy? It’s like she’s completely forgotten the black eyes and broken bones.”

  They hadn’t been dating when Ziggy ended up in the state penitentiary. He knew the man was a douchebag but didn’t know how bad Zoe and her family had it until after she opened up to him. Even then, Luke was sure Zoe left stuff out of her conversations with him. Luke had always counted the timeline of them dating as a blessing. If Luke saw Ziggy raising a hand to Zoe, it would have been him in jail.

  “I know it sucks, but I don’t think there is anything to worry about. It isn’t like your mom can invite the man over for dinner.”

  A look of doubt crossed Zoe’s features.

  “What?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it?”

  “He’s up for parole.”

  “Isn’t he up every year now?”

  “Yeah, but . . . it isn’t like he killed someone. Fifteen to life in my book means after fifteen years it’s all a crapshoot.”

  “Hasn’t it been more like twenty?”

  “Seventeen.” Her voice wavered.

  “You’re really worried about him getting out.”

  She did what Zoe did . . . she tried to blow it off. “Jo says it’s unlikely he will ever be free. Prison fights and added time.”