Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  In less than thirty seconds, Trevor folded. “Christ, Anna, will you just check out the names? Find someone you feel comfortable with? Sean wants to make sure you’ve got proper representation.”

  My breath hitched. “Representation?”

  Trevor quickly jumped to assuage my fears. “For your divorce. Sean wants you to have the best. He’s paying for it, of course.”

  Of course.

  Sean was paying for it, but he didn’t tell me about it.

  Closing my eyes, I loosened my grip on the phone. “Peyton’s my lawyer.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, Peyton’s great, but she practices corporate law.”

  Up until Dean showed up at the hospital, it never occurred to me that our divorce would be anything but civil. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  “It’s all good, Trev.” I willed my voice to stay even. Calm, just like his. “Dean’s not going to cause any problems.” Trevor’s silence told me he wasn’t convinced, but before he could mount an offensive, I said, “I’ve got it covered.”

  Trevor let out a resigned sigh but didn’t push.

  We talked for a few more minutes, catching up, and then I ended the call. I tumbled into the chair facing the window, ready to send Peyton a text.

  That’s when I saw Sean sitting beside Willow on the deck, his long legs crisscrossed in what had to be an uncomfortable position. But the look on his face, the mixture of pride and unconditional love as he watched Willow, it melted my heart.

  He’s got a lawyer.

  The thought hung over me like a dark, ominous cloud, crowding out everything else. Before I gave into the feelings of gloom, I pushed to my feet, resolute. I plucked a cheery sundress from my suitcase and then headed to the bathroom to shower so I could meet Peyton. And look at that apartment by the bridge she kept talking about.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sean

  I kissed Willow on the top of her head, then left her to play with Barbie and her Dreamhouse at the edge of the deck.

  Noting a missed call from Melissa, I dropped into the patio chair under the umbrella and hit redial.

  “Hey sugar,” Melissa said. “You called?”

  “Yeah, I was just checking to see when the, um . . .” Words like mastectomy and chemo didn’t belong in the English language, so my tongue refused to comply. “Thing is scheduled for.”

  Melissa snorted. “The ‘thing’ where they cut off my boobs and then pump me full of chemicals to kill off the cancer?”

  Considering Melissa had never gone for any tests, never had her yearly exams, and not a fuck was given about our family history, her jokes fell on deaf ears. I might not be able to say the words, but I wasn’t the only one avoiding.

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Two weeks from next Thursday. The oncologist sent my PET scan for a second opinion.”

  My shoulders tensed, and I rolled my head from side to side to relieve the pressure. “PET scan? Sounds like something they give a dog.”

  Melissa laughed. “It’s a full body scan. They’re going to try and schedule my next surgery in a couple of months.”

  Spots danced at the corners of my eyes. “Next surgery? Why would you need another surgery?”

  “Sean . . .”

  Disappointment laced Melissa’s tone. She’d sent me the information about her treatment, but I’d yet to open the email.

  Since she had no room to lecture, I ignored her censure.

  “So, two weeks from next Thursday, huh?” Roughing a hand down my face, I wondered where in the fuck I’d be two weeks from next Thursday. Here, I realized. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  Anna stepped onto the deck, smoothing the front of her white, eyelet sundress. Her auburn hair was back in a messy bun, and she was wearing makeup. My already queasy stomach somersaulted.

  “Sugar, I don’t want you to put yourself out,” Melissa said as I watched Anna take a seat across from me.

  “I really don’t care what you want, Lissa.” My tone held sincerity and warmth, but Anna cocked her head. I smiled and threw her a wink. “I’m going to be there.”

  Melissa sighed. “If that’s what you want, I guess I can’t stop you.”

  There was no mistaking the smile in her voice, the pride. Since I wanted to end things on a good note and find out why the hell my girl was up and dressed at 9:00 a.m., I quickly said goodbye and ended the call.

  “Morning, baby,” I said as I poured Anna a cup of coffee from the french press. “You’re up early.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a brochure peeking from her tote. Shiny images of the Colorado River and the 360 Bridge.

  Lake View Townhomes.

  Anna squinted, looking out at the water. “Trevor called. He said you wanted him to give me some names of divorce lawyers.”

  Anna was easier to read when she was agitated. Like now.

  Proceeding with caution, I surveyed her over the rim of my cup as I took a drink. “I did.”

  Her eyes blazed when she turned, the emerald hue dark with irritation. “What makes you think I need an attorney, Sean? What makes you think I need anything from you?”

  “I wanted you to have options.” Since this sounded suspiciously like what Alecia told Anna four years ago, I changed tactics. “My attorney said that this could get messy.”

  Anna’s fingers balled into a fist on the table. “And what exactly do you need an attorney for?”

  “For Willow.” I took Anna’s hand, and despite a meager protest, she let me. “I can’t sit by and let another man claim my child, baby. That’s not going to happen. Dean’s a lawyer. And since Willow has his name, and y’all are married, he’s holding a lot of cards.”

  “We’re separated,” she bit out. “And I can take care of my daughter.”

  “She’s my daughter too.”

  My tone was as soft and gentle as my thumb stroking over hers, but the subject was not up for debate. I would put my family back together. And hiring the best damned attorney in Austin was a step in that direction.

  As Anna stared at our little girl, silence yawned between us. The awkward kind.

  “I only want Willow to know me,” I finally said. “To know that I did everything to make that happen.”

  Focused on me now, Anna snapped, “Because I didn’t, right?” Her gaze slid to her emerald ring, and her voice fell to a whisper. “You wouldn’t even know about Willow if I hadn’t come to the concert. You never even tried to contact me.”

  Would we ever get past this?

  Without letting go of Anna’s hand, I changed seats, so that I was sitting next to her. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Threading my free hand into her hair, I looked into those green eyes that held all my tomorrows. “Whether you were there or not, I missed you. Every single day.”

  Anchoring my forehead to hers, I fought her silent resistance.

  Anna’s eyes drifted closed, and she asked in a small voice, “Do you know what I remember?”

  I shook my head.

  “Eight hours.”

  “What does that mean, baby?”

  A shuddering breath wracked her body. “You sent me a text that day . . .”

  She didn’t have to finish the thought. It always came back to that day, the day that changed everything.

  But I nodded, accepting her invitation into the past. “Go on.”

  Her lashes fluttered over wounded eyes, staring right into my soul. “You told me you loved me. You wrote it. And then eight hours later you walked out. For a long time, all I remember was the eight hours. That grace period when I didn’t know everything was going to end.”

  There was nothing I could say. No words to magically heal us. So I sealed my lips over hers, pouring every bit of my regret into the kiss. “I was wrong. So fucking wrong. But I never intended to stay away. It just—”

  “Ma!”

  We broke apart as Willow powered toward us, her bare feet slapping on the deck.

  “Ma!” Willow pointed
excitedly to the lake. “Daw!”

  I followed her finger to the Labrador retriever splashing around in the water next to its owner.

  “Want daw,” Willow said with an expectant look at her mother. “Ma?”

  Smiling, Anna lifted Willow onto her lap and then spoke close to her ear. “We’ll get one, baby. Mommy will find you a special dog.”

  Willow nodded glumly before sliding off Anna’s lap. She reclaimed her spot on the edge of the deck, watching the dog until it paddled out of sight.

  Something about Willow’s wistful look made me want to go ask the dude on the shore to name his price for the mutt.

  Shelving the wayward thought, I mused, “I guess she’s never had a dog.”

  Anna gave me a patronizing smile as she picked up her cup of coffee. “I can’t just go to the local pet store.” Rolling her eyes when I offered a “why not” kind of stare, she sighed. “Shit-zu, Poodle, Bichon Frise—that’s about it. And they have to be purebreds. Because of her asthma. They need to be hypoallergenic. And even then, it’s not a guarantee. I wouldn’t want to give her a dog and then have to take it away.”

  Taking her hand, I kissed her palm, grateful our little trip into the minefield didn’t blow off one of our limbs. “I get it.”

  Anna finished her coffee, then glanced at her phone. “I’d better get going.”

  She quickly gathered her paperwork, including the folder for Lakeview Town Homes. And then she stood and smoothed out her dress once again.

  I caught her arm before she could get away and then my palm skimmed over her elbow, past her shoulder, and landed on her nape. “Kiss?”

  Not that I was asking.

  Pulling her in, I explored her mouth, staking my claim. If Anna was going out into the world, she’d do it with my taste on her tongue.

  Breaking our connection, she said breathlessly, “I’m going to be late.”

  Since locking her in the house wasn’t an option, I bit my lip and acquiesced, staring vacantly at the lake as she prepared to leave. For how long, I didn’t know. An hour. Half the day. Forever.

  A protest from Willow caught me off-guard as she scrambled onto my lap.

  “No!” She scowled at her mother. “No . . . stay!”

  Anna slid her hands under Willow’s arms and tried to peel the kid off me. “Mommy’s got an appointment. Get your shoes.”

  Without thinking, I chimed in, “I’m not going anywhere. She can stay with me.”

  The “she” in question buried her face in my neck, nodding. I needed to work on my patience because this was about to get ugly.

  Anna’s lips parted, and she blinked at me, telegraphing the message loud and clear.

  Not happening.

  Burying my disappointment, I shifted, prepared to take Willow to Anna’s car, kicking and screaming. But then Anna’s fingers unfurled from our daughter’s arm.

  “Are you sure?” Eyes narrowed, she surveyed me for chinks in my armor.

  I had a shit ton, but not when it came to the little girl on my lap.

  “I’m sure. Lola’s here.”

  Anna sighed and then pulled a notepad from her bag. “It doesn’t inspire confidence if you’re depending on the housekeeper to help you out.”

  She scribbled a long list and then laid the paper in front of me. “This is her doctor’s number.” She smirked when my face went blank. “You won’t need it.”

  Line by line, Anna rattled off information while I nodded intently, all my focus on the list.

  When she finished, Anna crouched and said to Willow, “Last chance. Mommy’s leaving. Are you sure you want to stay?”

  Willow cupped her mother’s cheeks and nodded.

  Anna stayed there for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

  Anna wobbled to her feet, her face pale and a crease between her brows. I took her hand. “I got this.” I kissed her clammy palm. “We’ll stay in the house. Don’t worry.”

  Anna jerked a nod, brushed a kiss to the top of Willow’s head, and then rushed away. But I knew she wasn’t gone. I could feel her, hovering by the edge of the deck.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Anna’s face contorted with emotions she tried to hide. And I let her have that, her mask of strength.

  Shifting my attention to the lake, I watched the sun skitter off the water with Willow in my arms.

  Moments later, a car door slammed. I waited until the engine purred to life to lean close to my daughter’s ear. “You want to learn how to play the drums, Willow-baby?”

  Willow sat on the floor in my basement studio, her eyes glued to the twenty-seven-inch monitor in front of her.

  “Hep, peese.” She held out her hand.

  Smiling, I adjusted her grip on the plastic drumstick. “How’s that feel?”

  She nodded, oh so serious. “Goo.”

  Stretching out behind my baby girl with my MacBook on my lap, I ran the program I’d created for her. In order to show Willow what music looked like, I’d rigged the portable percussion set to run a feed from my laptop to the screen in front of her.

  It was kind of like the game “Simon,” with blinking lights that she could follow.

  The speakers in my studio were a higher quality than anything Willow had ever experienced, so it only took her a few tries to play the combinations flawlessly.

  After mastering the latest riff, she looked up at me expectantly. I set the laptop aside, dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and then stood.

  I held up my hands in the way I’d seen Anna do. “Wait.”

  Willow nodded, and her eyes followed me as I ran to the booth.

  I smiled at her through the glass as I set up the recording.

  When I reentered the studio, I took a seat behind my kit and then pointed at the pads. “Play, baby.”

  Willow looked so much like her mother when she worried her bottom lip, it nearly cracked me in two.

  I smiled wide and hit the high hat, encouraging my daughter to do the same. “Play,” I repeated.

  Squaring her little shoulders, Willow tapped the pad tentatively before swinging her gaze to me for approval.

  When I nodded, she began to play a simple eight beat riff of her own creation. Halfway through her second repetition, I added the snare and the kick drum—the two pieces that weren’t a part of her portable set.

  Somewhere between the here and the there, we created a song. It was a crude little thing, but I’d never been prouder of a piece of music. I only wished I’d had a video to show Anna.

  Inspired, I launched into a solo, and before I knew it, Willow was on her feet, her palm resting against the kick drum.

  Closing her eyes, she swayed in time with the rhythm.

  My heart swelled with a love I’d never felt, along with a twinge of regret.

  Was it too late for Willow to feel for me what I felt for her?

  I let it go, squashing the remorse behind the pounding beat. Right now, I had Willow and music. Two of the three things I loved most in the world. The rest would come.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Anna

  It was dusk when I pulled up to Sean’s house. Parking in the circular driveway, I sat for a long moment, just staring out at the lake.

  My phone lit up in the cupholder. A text from Peyton.

  You did the right thing. But maybe for the wrong reasons.

  When I heard the leaves rustling in the meadow, drawing my gaze to the willow tree, I felt at peace with my choice.

  Grabbing my phone, I headed for the front door. As I entered the foyer, my footsteps echoing off the high ceilings, a twinge of unease slithered through me. The house was silent. Still.

  I peered into the kitchen and found it dark. The living room was quiet as well, everything in its place like nobody had been here all day.

  Calling to Sean, my heart raced when he didn’t answer. Up the stairs I went, my anxiety growing with every step. Standing in the guest room with Willow’s toys neatl
y piled in the basket Lola had purchased, I pulled out my phone and sent Sean a text.

  Where are you?

  Biting my lip, I stared at the screen, willing him to answer. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long.

  Basement. Are you home?

  Home . . .

  Was I home?

  Willow was here, and so was Sean, so, yes, I guess I was home.

  Smiling, I descended the narrow staircase and headed for the basement. Expecting to find them in the theater room watching a movie, I was surprised to hear music coming from Sean’s studio.

  I peeked my head in the door.

  Sean was banging away on his drums, his long hair flying in every direction, and for a moment my breath caught.

  He looked . . . beautiful. And so young. Just like the image tucked in my memory.

  And then I saw Willow in front of Sean’s kit, palm pressed to the bass drum, smiling at her daddy.

  Mesmerized, I took in the scene.

  The music stopped as Sean’s arms fell to his side. He pointed at me, smiling, and Willow’s gaze followed his finger.

  She squealed, and in a flash, she took off in my direction.

  Sean nearly knocked over his drums in his haste to get to her, scooping her up with one arm to keep her from stumbling over the cords on the floor.

  “Ma! Ma!”

  Opening the door, I hovered at the threshold. They seemed so perfect at that moment, I hated to intrude.

  Sean closed the gap in four strides. “Come in, baby.” Wrapping me in a hug with Willow between us, he kissed my forehead and murmured, “Missed your face.”

  It was one of our old phrases, straight out of our past, and it warmed me in places where the sun hadn’t shone in a long time.

  Breathless, I looked up into Sean’s azure eyes. “Hey.”

  The silver threads flickered to life, and he bent to kiss me.

  “Ma!” Willow squirmed, demanding my attention by snaking an arm around my neck.

  Settling her onto my hip, I ventured farther into the room. There was stuff everywhere. Abandoned instruments. A portable kit like the one Sean carried with him on the road. Sheet music. “What’s going on in here?”