Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  Setting the box in front of me to lower the creep factor, I glanced around.

  On the playground, a little tow-headed boy not much bigger than Willow caught my attention when he flopped onto his belly at the top of the slide.

  My brows shot together and I wanted to warn the little guy, but his mother didn’t seem to share my concern. She waited at the bottom with a big smile.

  I turned away before the kid met his fate, but when I snuck a peek a second later, he was already climbing the steps to do it again.

  I had to wonder if the park was a good idea with all the obvious perils.

  There’s no way Anna would let Willow on any of these contraptions. Would she?

  From the look of longing on my daughter’s face as she pointed at the equipment, she was familiar. And Anna didn’t look the least bit concerned about the children tempting fate all around us.

  “You can play in a minute,” I heard Anna say as she tried to get Willow’s eyes and feet moving in the same direction. “Look.” She tipped her chin at me. “There’s a Happy Meal over there with your name on it.”

  Interest piqued, Willow snapped her attention to her mother.

  Anna smiled down at her and cajoled, “Do you want a Happy Meal, baby?”

  Willow’s copper curls bounced up and down as she nodded.

  I thought we were home free until Willow stopped in her tracks a couple of feet from where I sat. Despite the fact that she saw me every day at the house, and she’d just rode here on the back of my bike, she regarded me with a furrowed brow.

  Unconcerned, Anna slid onto the bench across from me, and said loud enough for Willow to hear, “I wonder if there’s a toy inside the box?”

  I blinked at her, unsure if the question was rhetorical. Anna laid her hand on my arm before I could rip open the box and do a thorough inspection.

  “What? A strangled voice rang in my ears. Mine.

  Anna’s lips curved into a heart-stopping grin. “Easy, Sean. You look kind of scared. What is it?”

  I shrugged, unnerved by Willow’s demeanor. “She doesn’t seem too thrilled having me here.”

  Anna rolled her eyes and laughed, reaching for her burger. “She thinks you might give in and let her play before we eat.”

  “And we’re not doing that?” I glanced from Willow to Anna who was now looking at me like I’d grown a third head.

  “No.” Anna drew out the word as if I were a child. “We’re the adults, remember?”

  I didn’t feel like an adult, but I gave Anna a confident smile nonetheless. “Got it.”

  Sure enough, once we started eating, or in my case picking, Willow inched her way to Anna’s side. I watched in fascination as she threw her chubby leg onto the bench while her equally chubby hand curled around the lip of the table to pull herself up.

  Once she settled on Anna’s lap, Willow made a grab for the red box.

  Anna thwarted her efforts, looking down into her frustrated azure gaze. “What do you say?”

  Willow scowled, and it was almost as perfect as her smile.

  “Peese,” she huffed, turning those baby blues in my direction.

  Mesmerized, I shoved the box in front of my little girl.

  Again, Anna outmaneuvered her hands. But this time Willow didn’t balk. She bounced up and down as Anna felt around inside the box. Willow’s lips formed a tiny o when Anna pulled out a little purple toy.

  Was like this all the time? And if so, how did people walk around without their hearts flying out of their chests?

  I finally understood the goofy fucking look on parents’ faces when their kid did something simple like drink water from a fountain or toss a ball. Because as Willow settled against Anna’s chest, the purple fuzzy action figure in one hand and a chicken nugget in the other, I’d never been so enthralled.

  “Eat,” Anna said as she inhaled her food.

  I’d no sooner unwrapped my Big Mac than Willow was on her feet, pointing at the sandbox.

  Balling up her wrapper, Anna smiled at my untouched burger. “I never thought I’d say this, but you better learn to eat quicker or you’ll starve.”

  I was already on my feet, chuckling as I cleaned up our mess. “Noted.”

  After emptying the trash, I took a seat on the bench next to Anna, and to my horror, Willow headed straight for the sandbox where a snot-nosed kid with a loaded diaper was playing.

  Panic struck as I glanced over the germ-infested box. There was probably Ebola in there. “Don’t you think it’s kind of dirty?”

  As I pulled out my phone to check for known contaminants in the Austin area, Anna caught my arm. “That’s the whole point, babe. It’s dirt.”

  Outside the bedroom, Anna hadn’t used a term of endearment on me in four years. Basking in the glow, I didn’t give the Google search another thought.

  When Willow began arranging the soft powder into neat piles, I sat up straighter. “What’s she doing?”

  Responding through a yawn, Anna said, “Making a sandcastle, I guess.”

  I felt my chest constrict with pride and something more. Love. How was it possible to love someone so thoroughly in a week?

  Taking Anna’s hand, I looked down at our entwined digits. “If I didn’t show up at your house, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would I?”

  Anna’s frown said it all, but I waited for the words.

  “If I stuck to the plan, neither of us would be here.” She sighed, looking away. “I wasn’t going to keep her.”

  After my conversation with Alecia at the hospital, Anna’s declaration didn’t come as a shock. But I had to wonder, how did this happen at all? Anna was meticulous about birth control. From the first day we picked up the pills at the free clinic, Anna had set an alarm to remind herself to take them.

  Kids were a far off “someday, maybe” proposition.

  After law school.

  Marriage.

  Music . . .

  The question dancing on the edge of every thought found a voice. “How did it happen?”

  “Rifampicin.” The name rolled off Anna’s tongue with familiar ease. Like she’d said it a million times. Before I could respond, she continued, “It’s an antibiotic. Remember when I cut my leg at the gym?” She looked down at our joined hands, frowning. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

  I brushed my lips to her temple. “On the leg press at 24 Hour Fitness? I remember.”

  Anna’s looked up at me, and seeing the happiness in her eyes only made it worse.

  Had I been that inattentive? Disinterested? Douchey? Apparently so.

  “Um . . . anyway,” Anna went on, “the doctor prescribed Rifampicin to wipe out the infection. It lowers the effectiveness of birth control pills by reducing the level of estrogen in the . . .” She exhaled a ragged breath. “It doesn’t matter. That’s how it happened.”

  Without a doubt, I knew Anna could recite every detail if I asked. All the statistics.

  My stomach turned as I pictured her scouring the net for information and explanations. Alone.

  I stroked my thumb over hers. “What happened next?”

  “Before or after you left?”

  I shook off the glancing blow. “After.”

  “Two trips to the clinic for an abortion—never made it past the front door. And then a meeting with a woman from an adoption agency. You know the rest.”

  I wasn’t sure if Anna was letting herself off the hook or sparing me, but there was a big piece she’d yet to explain.

  “Where does Dean fit in?”

  Anna’s leg bobbed and she looked away, squinting. “I told you he gave me a ride that night. We met for coffee after that. He wanted to see if I was all right. And then I threw up in the middle of the Java Hut.” Her focus shifted to Willow and she smiled. “So I broke down and told him about her.”

  My head swam as I absorbed that little nugget. “What about Peyton? She didn’t know?”

  “At that point, I was planning on having an abortion. Peyton was
sure you were going to come back. But I knew you weren’t.” Anna met my gaze, her eyes devoid of any sparkle. “Unless she told you I was pregnant. And she would’ve, you know? So I had Dean take me to the clinic. And then to the meeting with the adoption lady. He asked me to marry him on the way home that day.”

  Ever since our confrontation at the hospital, I’d imagined all the ways I’d put the hurt on Dean the next time I saw him. I pictured my fist colliding with his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose against my knuckles. The blood. Not once did I see him as anything but some guy who took advantage of my girl. Until now.

  My introspection drew a heated glare from Anna. “I’m not apologizing for that, Sean. Not for having Willow. Or marrying Dean, or—”

  Sliding my hand to Anna’s nape, I pressed a kiss to her mouth. To wipe Dean’s name from her lips or share the burden, I wasn’t sure.

  “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  If I had a dollar for every time I’d said it or thought it in the past four years, I could pay Willow’s way through college. Still, I would keep saying it.

  “Ma?” We turned in unison and found Willow standing a few feet away. “Swing now?”

  Anna wobbled to her feet. “Of course, baby.” Miraculously, she smiled at me and held out her hand. “You coming?”

  I didn’t deserve Anna’s kindness. But I wasn’t about to turn it down. I linked our fingers as we traipsed through the sand, following the trail of dust to where Willow waited beside the swing, her fingers coiled possessively around the chain.

  Before I could test the links, Anna scooped Willow up and said, “A little help?”

  “Sure.”

  Dropping onto my knees, I held the seat, and when Willow slid into place her face was a foot from mine. Instinctively my hand shot up to smooth a curl that had fallen over her eyes, but then I stopped, looking to Anna for permission. Guidance. Something.

  Anna nodded, and I awkwardly tucked the strand behind Willow’s hearing aid.

  Hauling to my feet before I scared the kid with my shaking hand and overall ineptitude, I smiled. “All set.”

  Willow stared up at me with furrowed brows, kicking her legs,

  Anna took a seat on the adjacent swing, chuckling. “You’re going to have to give her a push.”

  I waited for her to provide detailed instructions on the proper way to push a toddler in a swing, because surely there had to be a handbook somewhere for all that shit. But all I got was a smile.

  “I can do that,” I said, and with a confidence I didn’t possess, I sank into the sand behind our daughter.

  Placing my palm on Willow’s back, I studied my hand, which spanned the width of her tiny frame. Soft wisps of hair brushed my fingertips, and the breeze carried her baby scent straight to my heart, where it nestled beside the space I’d carved out for Anna long ago.

  I leaned close to her ear. “Ready, Willow-baby?”

  Her head bobbed, and I swear I felt her heartbeat like butterfly wings under my touch.

  I gave her a gentle nudge, and she glided forward, giggling. But I made sure I was right there when she returned. Regret for all the time I’d missed threatened to cloud the moment, as did the voice in my head, reminding me that I’d be leaving in two days.

  Determined to do whatever the hell it took so I’d never miss another milestone in Willow’s life, I let my little girl’s laughter chase the storm away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Anna

  After Willow fell asleep, I snuck out of bed, but instead of going to Sean’s room as I had every other night, I headed downstairs to the home theater next to his studio. I wanted to transfer some pictures I’d taken this afternoon onto his hard drive.

  My heart pinched at the thought of Sean leaving. But he wasn’t mine to keep, and I knew that going in.

  After plugging my phone into the little black box attached to his projection screen, I took a seat on one of the couches.

  Picking up the remote, I tried to remember the steps to download. A menu came up labeled personal photos, and when I pressed the button, the screen populated with dozens of pictures. All of Sean in places I didn’t recognize with different women on his arm. In his lap. At his side.

  Tears lined my eyes, but I just sat there, unmoving, barely breathing, with the pieces of Sean’s life laid out before me.

  Footfalls on the stairs jolted me from my trance, and I fumbled with the buttons until the screen went dark.

  The door creaked open, spilling light into the room. Not a lot. But enough to see the look of concern on Sean’s face.

  He glimpsed the blank screen as he walked toward me. “What are you doing?”

  I held up my phone as if that explained everything, and then finding my voice, I choked out, “Pictures. Of Willow.”

  Sean looked down at the remote clutched in my other hand. I wanted to throw it at him, but before I could, he took it from me. “Let’s see what you got.”

  He dropped onto the sofa, and when the screen illuminated, the photos splashed across his face. All of his conquests superimposed on his skin.

  He blinked slowly and then pressed delete, jabbing the button until they were gone, and it was just us, sitting in the dark.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said thickly.

  “They didn’t mean anything.”

  “I get it.”

  I hauled to my feet, trying to break his hold when his hands curled around my waist.

  “What do you get?” Sean gripped me tighter and then pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my chest, right above my heart. “Tell me.”

  Tell me. Show me. Look at me.

  All his whispered demands, and always it came back to this. To the beginning of our end.

  Anger flowed through me, unjustified given the circumstances. But that’s the thing about anger, it doesn’t need a reason.

  Sean’s fingers inched north, and I cursed my traitorous body, my tight nipples, and wet panties.

  He looked up at me, thumbs sweeping the underside of my breasts. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  The thought of Sean’s bed turned my stomach, so I shook my head. If he wanted to fuck, we’d do it here, with the ghosts of all the other women a few feet away.

  I eased the thin straps over my shoulders, and let my nightgown slip to my waist.

  Sean’s gaze flicked to my taut nipples, the stiff peaks a testament to my weakness.

  “Upstairs,” he repeated, more forcefully this time.

  A taunting smile formed on my lips. “You want to fuck me, Sean? Then fuck me right here.”

  He caught my wrist when I reached for the drawstring on his board shorts. Pulling me on top of him with our joined hands trapped between us, he searched my face. “You want to tell me what we’re playing at here?”

  I smiled, because he hit the nail on the head. This was a game. And in two days it would end.

  My gaze shot to the blank screen for a half a beat. “Sex is a sport, right?” I palmed him through the thin fabric of his shorts, and his cock pulsed in my hand. “So why it does it matter where we play?”

  Annoyance shadowed his features. But then he flipped me onto my back on the smooth leather couch. As he looked down at me, impatient hands yanking at my gown, I swear I saw something in his eyes. But then he nudged my legs open with his knee.

  “You’re right, baby. It doesn’t matter where.” My breath stalled as he pushed my panties aside, and sliding a finger between my folds, he smiled. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  It sounded more like an accusation than a compliment. So I pressed my lips together to show him how unaffected I was. When he slipped a second finger inside my slick channel, my hips bucked of their own accord.

  Stupid body.

  Pissed now, mostly at myself, I made another attempt to claw at Sean’s shorts, but he stopped me. “I don’t think so.”

  I glared at him as his thumb grazed my clit. But when he started circling the tiny nub, I couldn’t hold back, and a slew of
curses tumbled from my lips.

  Another smile from Sean, soft, despite his relentless assault. “You like that?”

  I said nothing, surrendering to the rhythm of his thrusts, and right when I was about to fly, he stopped.

  His shorts slid to the ground, and then fisting his cock, he stroked himself in earnest. “Is this what you want?”

  Sean kept asking questions, upping the stakes, like maybe I’d give in.

  He could have my body, hell, he owned my body, but he couldn’t have my words. Not tonight.

  I spread my legs wider in silent invitation.

  Sean’s eyes stayed glued to my face as he ripped the foil package, and once he was fully sheathed, he gripped my thighs and pulled me forward. His hands slid to my ass, tilting me at just the right angle so that his blunt head was positioned at my entrance.

  “You want me?” he asked softly. Too softly. Gripping my chin when I turned my head, Sean forced me to meet his gaze. “Do you?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing in to the hilt with one thrust. I gasped, and Sean took full advantage, his mouth sealing over mine. Something about the tenderness stabbed at my heart, so I sank my teeth into his bottom lip.

  Sean didn’t stop, or even pause, despite the coppery taste on our tongues.

  When he finally broke the connection, panting, I turned my head.

  “Open your eyes,” he demanded.

  Defiant, I shook my head.

  He stopped moving. “Open your eyes, please.”

  Reluctantly, I complied. And I wished I hadn’t. Because when I looked at him, it was much harder to deny my feelings.

  Sean eased out slowly and then slammed home with punishing force.

  “Do you feel that?” He grunted. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from whimpering when he repeated the motion. “Do. You. Feel. It?”

  Turning my face away, I bit out, “Yes. I feel it.”

  Sean pressed a kiss to my neck, my tense jaw, and finally my lips, and fuck, I couldn’t stop myself from seeking his tongue.

  Slowing his pace, he touched his forehead to mine. “This isn’t me fucking you, Anna-baby. This is me loving you.”