Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  “What the hell, Sean?” I dropped the weapon, splashing marinara all over the floor. “What are you doing here?”

  I pressed my lips into a firm line when I realized how that sounded. This was his house, not mine.

  Sean chuckled. “Getting my ass kicked, apparently.”

  As he crouched to pick up the fallen utensil, he swiped a finger over a glob of sauce resting on the top of my foot. With a seductive glint in his eyes, he rose to his full height and made a show of licking the red goop from his thumb. Which naturally drew my attention to his split lip and the bruise on his cheek.

  My hand flew to his face. “What happened to you?”

  He seemed shocked by the question, but when my fingers skated over the tender flesh, he winced.

  “Just a little accident.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  Sean held my gaze and then slowly, deliberately, shifted his focus to Willow who was taking in the scene with curious blue eyes.

  Capturing my hand, Sean kissed my palm. “Later, okay?” His lips traveled to my wrist where he pressed another kiss over my pulse point.

  The intensity in his stare and the tenderness in his touch wore me down. “Okay.”

  As soon as our contact was broken, my anger returned. I shut off the music, then lifted Willow from her spot.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I mumbled. “I have to feed her.”

  Sean blocked my path. “You set the table, and we’ll go wash up.”

  He held his arms out for our daughter, and though every instinct told me to deny him, I couldn’t. Willow was his. And regardless of what he felt or didn’t feel for me, she wasn’t a pawn to be used as punishment.

  Not that I could.

  The little traitor was squirming in my arms, reaching for her daddy with a smile.

  Reluctantly, I handed her over. “You do that.”

  Striding out of the room, he cooed to our little girl while I sorted through the silverware drawer, fighting the tears lining my eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sean

  At the archway to the kitchen, I paused to glance at Anna. Shoulders curved inward and head bowed, she stood at the counter with her back to me. She didn’t look up even though I could tell she knew I was there.

  Clearly, she was pissed. And yeah, I should’ve called. Should’ve texted. Something.

  I was about to double back, take Anna in my arms and explain the whole fucking mess when Willow laid her head on my shoulder. Once I brushed my nose over her coppery curls, inhaling her sweet baby scent, my problems melted into the background.

  “How was your day, Willow-baby?”

  She shimmied down my legs and landed in front of the pedestal sink, a little cough erupting from her chest. “Goo.”

  I crouched behind her to turn on the faucet. “Did you have fun at school?”

  Nodding, she squirted soap into her hand as another cough rattled her tiny frame. And then another.

  Spluttering, she whirled around, eyes wide. “M-ma.”

  My heart stalled, and I took her by the shoulders. “Willow, what is it?”

  Wheezing, she fisted my T-shirt with a soapy hand. “M-ma.”

  Scooping her up, I hopped to my feet. The rattle in her chest was more pronounced, like thunder against my skin. “Hold on, baby.”

  I flung the door open, colliding with Anna.

  “Something’s wrong . . . She can’t breathe. I don’t know what happened.”

  Anna took Willow from my arms. “Calm down, Sean,” she snapped, her eyes locked on mine as she sank onto the travertine floor. “Don’t panic. Never panic.”

  Panic didn’t begin to describe what I felt. Ripping a hand through my hair, I watched the scene unfold, helpless.

  Anna dug around in her pocket while Willow flailed on the floor like a fish out of water. “It’s okay, baby.” Producing one of the magic silver cylinders, Anna yanked the cap off with her teeth, then held the inhaler to Willow’s lips. “Big breath.”

  Willow squirmed, fighting her mother every step of the way.

  I sank to my knees beside my girls. “Tell me what to do.”

  Anna outmaneuvered Willow’s hands. “Nothing. She just needs her medicine.” Pressing the inhaler to Willow’s lips once again, she cupped her cherub cheek. “You gotta breathe for Mommy. Now. Big breath.”

  Willow stopped squirming, her blue eyes wild with fear.

  Unable to take it anymore, I focused on Anna. The firm set of her jaw. The determination in her eyes. The reassuring smile on her lips.

  How in the fuck was she so calm?

  “That’s it,” Anna soothed. “Big breath. One . . . two . . . three . . .”

  I counted along, my lungs expanding when the inhaler released its life-saving mist.

  Anna dropped the cylinder, and it fell to the floor, rolling to a stop in front of me. I picked up the tube and stared at it, dazed.

  When I looked up, Willow was in her mother’s arms.

  “It’s all right,” Anna cooed to our daughter, her palm flat on the baby’s chest. “You’re okay.”

  I blinked at Anna, because holy fuck, she’d done it. She’d saved Willow.

  After a long moment, I helped her to her feet. “Should I call anyone?”

  My voice was hollow, weak. And I fucking hated it. I’d give anything to protect them. And I couldn’t.

  Anna smiled at me, her eyes soft. “For what? It’s over.” She motioned to the stairs. “Come on.”

  Chilled by the sweat soaking my T-shirt, I trudged along behind them.

  Anna laid Willow on the comforter while I just stood there and watched. A machine whirred to life, and I recognized the little blue penguin from that first night in Willow’s room. The nebulizer.

  Anna secured the mask over Willow’s nose and mouth and then settled against the headboard with the baby resting in her arms.

  “She’s fine,” Anna assured me. “Why don’t you go get something to eat?”

  Was she serious?

  Dropping like a stone onto the side of the bed, I cleared my throat. “I’m not hungry.”

  Propping my elbows on my knees with my hands clasped in front of me, I waited. For what I wasn’t sure.

  The end of the world?

  Anna nudged me with her foot.

  Tearing my attention from Willow, I blinked at her. “What . . . what do you need?”

  Another smile. “There’s no way I can put her to bed with you in here. The minute I take this mask off she’ll be all over you. Go get something to eat. Everything’s fine. I promise.”

  A mild protest lodged in my throat. But looking into Willow’s heavy-lidded blue eyes, I held it back when my baby smiled a sleepy smile.

  “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”

  Anna shook her head, so I got up, knees knocking and stomach pitching. It felt like I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

  “Night, Willow-baby,” I whispered.

  And then against every instinct, I left the room.

  As I padded down the stairs to grab my suitcase, the smell of Anna’s spaghetti wafted from the kitchen. My stomach growled, but the thought of food was unimaginable.

  After checking the burners on the stove, I turned out the lights, grabbed my bag from the foyer, and then headed to my bedroom.

  Sagging on the couch, I stared at the ceiling, making mental notes of everything we needed. An intercom in every room. A private nurse. No, a live-in nurse.

  About an hour later Anna slipped through the door, and I bolted straight up. “Is she all right?”

  Anna nodded and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, the baby monitor in her hand. “She’s fine. Asleep.”

  Nothing felt fine. In fact, something was way the fuck off. Anna wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  I closed the gap between us, but Anna sank farther into the corner of the couch and looked at me. “How was your party?”

&
nbsp; I chuckled, probably from exhaustion, though I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  “It sucked.” Dropping my head back, I closed my eyes. “There was this girl I used to . . .”

  “Fuck” was accurate, but I wasn’t going there.

  I lost my train of thought, jerking to attention when the cushions dipped.

  Anna gazed down at me with cold eyes. “I don’t need to hear your confession, Sean. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “Whoa.” Grabbing her hips, I tugged until she relented and shuffled between my knees. “In order to confess, I’d need to have done something wrong.” Anna’s expression was dubious, so I continued, “Kimber . . . that’s the girl’s name, was only there for a photo op. She didn’t come with me if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Folding her arms over her middle, Anna nodded. “Okay.”

  I pulled her a little closer. “You don’t believe me?”

  Her lips parted as if to answer, but then she cocked her head. “Were you smoking?” Her attention shifted to my plain white T-shirt, and before I could answer, she plucked the Marlboros from my pocket. “You were smoking.”

  She held the red and white box in her open palm, staring at it like she’d just discovered a murder weapon.

  “Yeah, I picked up a pack after the show. I just had a couple.” A couple of dozen, but that wasn’t the point. “It’s not a regular thing.”

  She threw the pack at my chest. “You can’t smoke.”

  I’d never taken well to demands, even from Anna.

  “Can’t?” I blew out an annoyed breath. “I get it, smoking kills. I’ve read the warning label.”

  Anna grabbed the baby monitor and turned on her heel.

  Bolting to my feet, I overtook her in seconds, caging her against the door. “If it’s a problem for you. I’ll stop.”

  “It’s not my problem,” Anna said quietly. “Cigarettes cause asthma attacks. Willow can’t be around smoke.”

  My heart took residence in my throat. “What? Are you saying . . .”

  Anna was out the door before I could finish the thought, confirming my suspicion. I caused this.

  Picturing Willow on the floor, I braced a hand on the wall to keep from falling over.

  I’d smoked thousands of cigarettes in my life, my first just one room away from my mother, dying of cancer at the time. Even my own collision course with the disease never gave me pause. But right now, the faint scent of ash on my shirt was enough to make me want to puke.

  Fighting the bile rising in my throat, I dragged my suitcase to my closet and then dumped the contents into the hamper. I stripped off my clothes, tossing the offending garments on top of the pile. If smoke weren’t an issue, I’d burn the heap.

  Inside the bathroom, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Bruises, bloodshot eyes and a crease between my brows so deep you could park a car in it.

  When I couldn’t stand the sight of myself a minute longer, I stepped inside the shower. Steam rose and I struggled to catch my breath.

  Turning the faucet to the left, the shock from the blast of cold water forced air into my lungs.

  If only it were that easy for my daughter.

  Some minutes later, Anna nudged me aside. “Why are you standing in the cold?”

  Frigid water seemed like a small penance for nearly killing my kid.

  Pinning on a smile, I wrapped Anna in my arms and reversed our positions to block the stream since she was already shivering. “Didn’t know you’d be joining me, baby.”

  A frown tugged her lips. “I’m sorry, Sean. I was just . . .” She focused on the soap dish. “I was mad about the girl.”

  The girl?

  And then I remembered the conversation I’d started before our talk about the cigarettes. “Kimber?”

  Anna nodded.

  I sighed and turned off the water.

  Sliding my hands to Anna’s hips, I walked us backward to the stone bench. I took a seat and then searched for her eyes. “Look at me, baby.”

  When she didn’t comply, I continued, “I told you nothing happened with Kimber. She just showed up.” Delicately side-stepping the issue of Logan’s part in the debacle, I pulled her closer. She looked at me then, her gaze so wounded and mistrustful, I shuddered inside. “Anna-baby, I love you. Don’t you know that?”

  Her brows dove together. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

  Why didn’t I?

  “’Cause I’m a fucking moron sometimes,” I admitted. “It was a bad night, and I didn’t have anything good to say.”

  “So you didn’t get the offer from Conner?”

  I heaved a breath, my mind all over the place. Surprisingly, none of my thoughts concerned the band.

  “Uh, yeah, I think Conner’s going to make an offer. We’ll know next week.”

  “Then how did your night turn out so bad?” Anna’s eyes flicked to my busted lip and further down to the bruise on my neck. “You seemed to be having a good time in the pictures I saw.”

  Pictures? Of course there were pictures.

  “I know what it must’ve looked like.” I pressed a kiss to her chest, right below the hollow of her throat. “But nothing happened. Kimber just showed up on the red carpet.”

  Half-truths—were they as bad as a lie? Probably, the voice in my head warned.

  “Maybe I overreacted,” Anna conceded, and fuck, that made me feel worse.

  Banding my arms around her waist, I looked into her eyes. “Don’t. It was my fault. I didn’t call.” I blew out a breath. “And then I almost put our kid in the hospital.”

  Anna sloughed off my hands and then backed away. And who could blame her?

  “It wasn’t a serious attack, Sean, and you didn’t put her in the hospital. But I have.”

  She dropped her gaze at my stunned expression.

  “When?” I croaked.

  “A couple years ago. Cold air can trigger an attack. I p-put her in the car seat, and I was late.” She winced. “It wasn’t that cold. I didn’t think it was that cold. But she had an attack on I35.” Tears flooded Anna’s eyes, and she slid down the wall, landing with a splat. “She spent thirty hours in the hospital. I know, because I counted.”

  I joined her on the floor, the pebbled tiling digging into my knees as I crawled to her side. “Was that supposed to make me feel better or worse?”

  The corner of Anna’s lips ticked up. “I don’t know. I just wanted you to understand that things happen. Even to me. And I was more pissed at myself about the smoking thing than you.”

  I laced our fingers. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t notice the smell when you walked in. Maybe because you, I mean we, used to smoke. I would’ve picked it up on anyone else, but you just smelled like you.”

  I laughed. “So you smell like peaches, and what, I smell like an ashtray?”

  Laying her head on my shoulder, she sighed. “No. You smell like a memory. Another life.”

  Anna’s sweet nostalgia tore through me like a hollow point bullet, exploding in my chest. Because I didn’t want to be a memory. I wanted a foothold in this life, the one she shared with Willow.

  I settled her onto my lap, and she looked up at me and asked, “So, are we just going to sit in here all night?”

  I kissed her shoulder, skimming my hand up her thigh. “No.” My mouth moved to her ear as I reached between her legs, my fingers creeping toward her sweet pussy. “But I am going to fuck you in here. And when we’re finished you’re going to tell me all about Willow’s asthma. So I’ll know exactly what to do when this shit happens again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Anna

  Light poured through the window, a yellow haze settling on Willow’s side of the bed. My heart slammed against my ribs when all I saw was rumpled sheets where my daughter should’ve been sleeping. But then I heard a giggle drift up from somewhere in the house, followed by Lola’s voice.

  Surmising that Sean must’ve taken Willow
downstairs for breakfast, I wilted against the pillow to catch my breath. I was so used to doing everything on my own, I wasn’t sure what to make of all this help.

  Still, I was exhausted, so I wouldn’t turn it down.

  As promised, Sean’d fucked me into oblivion last night and then instead of letting me sleep off the euphoric bliss, he proceeded to ask me every question known to man about Willow’s condition.

  Rolling onto my side, I pulled the covers to my chin, intent on catching an hour of sleep.

  My phone rattled violently against the nightstand, and I groaned, reaching for the device without opening my eyes. “Hello?”

  “Anna . . . It’s Trevor.”

  My heavy lids popped open. I hadn’t seen Trevor in over a year. In fact, I’d avoided him whenever possible after I’d married Dean.

  “Hey, Trev.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, chiding myself for the informality. Trevor was Sean’s friend, not mine. I zipped my lip.

  After a beat, Trevor sighed. “This is awkward, huh?”

  Since I didn’t know what “this” was, I mumbled something noncommittal and sat up.

  “Sean asked me to call,” Trevor said, sounding unsure of himself.

  Suspicion churned in my gut, and I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  Another long pause. “I’m just going to cut to the chase. I have a couple of names of attorneys that specialize in family law. You know how lawyers don’t like to go head-to-head with each other. But these guys aren’t afraid of Dean, and none of them have a conflict with the attorney Sean hired.”

  My suspicion moved north, and a lump formed in my throat. “Sean has an attorney?”

  A string of muttered curses from Trevor followed by more silence from me. He finally blew out a breath. “Yes, Sean hired an attorney. I thought he’d tell you. But you don’t need to worry.”

  Oh, but I was worried.

  Trevor was using his lawyerly tone with me. The calm, courtroom demeanor that we were taught to adopt our first day of law school.

  I could play that game too. But my weapon of choice was silence. People hated it, and it usually led to someone spilling their guts.