by Sarra Cannon
I unwrap his swaddle and draw him close to my body, warming him. It’s part of the Kangaroo care here. There are almost always babies here who need someone to rock them and hold them. There’s proof that babies grow stronger when they’re held more, but sometimes they’re mothers aren’t always able to be here.
I volunteer as often as I can, but it’s never enough.
“He was born about three weeks premature,” she says. “His name is Isaac.”
“Hello Isaac,” I say, staring down into his sweet little face.
“He’s a strong boy, though. The doctors say he’s going to be just fine.”
I look around the unit and see an even smaller baby inside an incubator. “And him?”
Nurse Valerie’s mouth twists down. “He’s not doing as well,” she says. “He has a heart condition. He’s fighting for his life every second of every day.”
I swallow, a lump forming in my throat. “Isn’t there something they can do?”
“Surgery,” she says. “But it’s expensive and his parents don’t have the insurance coverage or the money to pay for it.”
“How much?” I ask.
This is exactly the kind of thing my mother forbids me to do. It’s not that she’s completely heartless. She does a lot for charity and I’m sure the money does a lot of good somewhere. I just think we should be doing a lot of good here, in our own community.
“Five thousand dollars,” she says. There’s hope in her eyes when she looks at me.
I know she would never come right out and ask me for money, but how could I turn away from this sweet baby and not help?
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say. “When do you need it?”
“As soon as you can,” she says. “The earliest the surgeon could do it would be next week. If we don’t get it scheduled, though, it might get pushed out even farther, and I’m just not sure he’ll hang on that long.”
“See if you can get him on the schedule,” I say. “I’ll get you the money by Monday.”
Her eyes tear up and she sets a soft hand on my shoulder. “You are a saint, Miss Penny.”
I shake my head. “I am a sinner,” I say. “Trust me.”
She smiles and wipes at the corners of her eyes.
An hour later, I’m walking back into my parents’ house when my phone buzzes in my purse.
I’m home! Heading to Brantley’s.
I shriek and run back out to my car. Leigh Anne’s home!
Brantley’s is the local steakhouse where Leigh Anne works. I’m dying to see her. We’ve talked on the phone a few times since she left for Boston, but she hasn’t had a lot of extra time to chat.
“Where are you running off to?” Preston asks. He’s coming home just as I am about to leave. His car is parked next to mine in the garage and he’s standing with one arm propped against the frame.
“Leigh Anne’s home,” I say.
A brief shadow crosses his face. It’s so slight, no one in the world but me would probably have noticed it. But I noticed.
I pause, keys in hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He shakes his head, acting tough. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m glad she’s home. Tell her I’m hoping to stop by on Friday if I can.”
“I’ll let her know.”
I give him another sympathetic look. I can tell he’s bothered just by the thought of her. He really did love Leigh Anne, but he was the one who screwed it up back in high school when he cheated with one of our best friends. I understand what it feels like to be heartbroken, though. Even if it’s your own fault, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Are you going to be hanging out here for a while?” I ask. “Or are you heading back to your apartment this afternoon?”
I still live at home, but Preston has his own place.
He shrugs. “Not sure. I thought I might hang out in the game room for a while. There’s absolutely nothing else going on today.”
“Okay, well if you’re still here when I get back, maybe we can watch a movie or something,” I say. “Just the two of us.”
He gives me a look, and I know he sees right through me. “I don’t need your pity,” he says. “I’m happy for her. Really.”
“Fine,” I say, eyebrows raised and head turned to the side. “Don’t watch a movie with your twin sister who loves you more than life itself. I don’t care.”
Preston laughs and rolls his eyes. “Just go,” he says. “You’re making it worse.”
I laugh and get in my Audi. It only takes me a few minutes to get to Brantley’s. It’s possible I was speeding most of the way there, but this car has a mind of its own sometimes. If I go slow, it taunts me. Luckily, I have yet to get pulled over. Dad would kill me.
I park and run inside, cringing slightly at my reflection in the glass doors as I pass through the entrance. I look like a bum in shorts and a tank top, but I didn’t want to waste time changing.
Luckily, the restaurant is dead except for a cluster of servers at the bar. I rush up and practically tackle Leigh Anne, who is sitting in the center of the cluster.
“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re home.”
She hugs me back and a few of the people who were standing around walk back toward the kitchen.
I finally pull away and take a seat at the barstool next to hers. “When did you get in? Just now?”
“Yes,” she says. “Jenna threatened death if I didn’t stop by here first.”
“I heard that,” Jenna shouts from the door of the kitchen.
“Well, you did,” Leigh Anne shouts back.
I look over and see Jenna carrying a tray of food out toward the main dining room. She’s got the sleeves of her white shirt rolled up and most of her arms are covered in tattoos. Her white-blonde hair is parted in the middle and braided on both sides.
I’ve only hung out with her a few times, but she seems really fun. I invited her to a couple parties on the yacht and at Preston’s apartment while Leigh Anne was out of town, but she never showed.
“What’s her story?” I ask Leigh Anne. “She never comes to any of my parties.”
Leigh Anne shrugs and turns back to her drink. “I’m honestly not sure,” she says. “She hasn’t told me much about her past except that she transferred here from some school in Macon.”
I turn to the guy at the bar. Colton. He’s a cutie with his shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. “You hang out with her a lot, right?”
He looks up from the set of glasses he’s cleaning. His mouth drops open, like I’ve just caught him doing something naughty. “Sure,” he says. “We’re friends.”
He stumbles over the word friends, then looks longingly toward the dining room. My stomach feels heavy when I see that look. I know that look, because it’s exactly the way I look at Mason. Colton must have it bad for Jenna, but from the sadness in his eyes, I’m not sure she feels the same way.
I want to tell him I feel his pain, but I barely know this guy. And I certainly don’t want to confess to a stranger that I’m in love with a guy who doesn’t love me back. Not exactly a good conversation starter.
“Has she mentioned to you that I invited her to a few parties lately?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not that I remember, why?”
I sit back and pout. “People don’t usually turn down invites to my parties. I wonder why she didn’t come?”
Leigh Anne takes another sip of her sweet tea. “Maybe she was working those days.”
“Maybe,” I say, watching as Jenna comes back toward us. She winks as she disappears into the kitchen. “Maybe she doesn’t like me.”
“Not possible,” Leigh Anne says.
I smile and shake my head. “Thanks, but you’re crazy,” I say. “I bet there are a lot of people in this town who don’t like me. They still usually come to my parties, though.”
“Speaking of parties, Knox told me a bunch of us are getting together Friday,” Leigh Anne says. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” I say, turning back to her. “And I’m bringing a date.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Anyone I know?”
“Nope.” I lean over and grab a menu from behind the bar. “Just another one of my mom’s fix-ups.”
Leigh Anne laughs. “Hopefully this guy will be better than the last one,” she says. “That guy was weird.”
I twist my nose up. “Don’t remind me,” I say. “I might have gotten over the fact that he was only five-foot-five if he hadn’t spent the entire evening bragging about his extensive coin collection. He even asked me if I was going to inherit any coins along with my trust fund. Seriously? I felt like he was only on a date with me to scope out the potential for good loot.”
Leigh Anne is laughing uncontrollably. “I honestly don’t know how you managed to finish dinner,” she says. “How could your mom have thought you would actually like that guy?”
“Because his parents are the right kind of people,” I say. “That was literally the only thing she knew about him before she set us up.”
“She’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re actually letting her set you up again.”
Colton scoots a Dr. Pepper toward me, and I’m impressed he remembered that’s what I drink without me even having to ask. I tell him thanks, then turn back to Leigh Anne after he walks away. “I’m desperate,” I say quietly, taking a sip from my straw. “I can’t handle another night where Mason has a hot date and I’m all alone.”
I swallow and stare down at my hands. I’m not telling her the whole truth. She has no idea Mason and I have been sleeping together for the past year, and I have no idea what she’d say if I told her.
Okay, well, I have a little bit of an idea.
She’d probably tell me I’m stupid for letting him treat me like this. That I’m only setting myself up for heartache. That if he can’t commit to a real relationship with me, he doesn’t deserve to have sex with me either. But I already hear those things in my head. I don’t need someone else confirming it or making me feel worse about it.
Leigh Anne’s the queen of doing the right thing, lately, which only makes me feel like crap for doing all the wrong things.
She leans toward me until our shoulders are touching. “He’s an asshole,” she says.
I nod, but something deep inside my heart protests. Yes, he acts like a dick sometimes, but there’s more to him than most people get to see. When he isn’t around a crowd or trying to push me away, he’s really kind of amazing. Funny, sweet, understanding. There are moments when I think he gets me more than anyone else in the world. Even more than my own twin brother.
But every time I catch a glimpse of how good we could be together, he slams a door in my face.
“Are you okay?” Leigh Anne asks.
I look up, realizing I’ve been staring into the bubbles of my drink for the last few minutes. I didn’t even realize her food had come. “I’m fine.” I force a smile. I feel like a selfish jerk for talking nonstop about my own problems when she’s been through so much lately. “Tell me all about you and Knox and the cute babies you plan to make someday.”
She laughs and hits my shoulder, but when I look over, her eyes are shiny and happy.
And for some reason, I suddenly feel very much alone.
Chapter Seven
“This is the one,” Leigh Anne says.
She takes a black dress from my closet and holds it up against my body. I don’t even recognize this dress. I take it from her and see the tags are still attached. I shudder. This has to be one of the many dresses my mother bought me back when I was twenty or thirty pounds heavier. She would hang them up in my room and when I’d insist it wouldn’t fit she’d always act surprised, like she had no idea I couldn’t fit into a size five.
I’ve never worn a single one of those dresses. I used to stare at them and binge on chocolate.
“You don’t think it’s too dressy?” I don’t want to tell her why I hate this dress.
Leigh Anne shakes her head and stands back. “I think it’s perfect,” she says. “Try it on.”
I stare at the dress. What the hell?
There’s only so long a girl can hold onto pain before it becomes so heavy she can barely stand up anymore. Tonight is for trying new things and letting go of the pain of the past. I shrug and slide my current dress down. Underneath, I’m wearing the sexiest underwear I own. A very dark pink lace bra and panties I bought in Paris last year. Thigh highs with a garter. I’m going all out. If Braxton gets far enough to see it, he’ll be the first since Mason.
Then again, what are the odds he will get that far? I’ve only had sex with two guys besides Mason, and neither one was very impressive. Mostly, I was just trying it out to see if sleeping with them would make me forget that the guy I really wanted didn’t want me.
It didn’t.
And once I finally did get a taste of the one I wanted, I knew I was ruined for every other guy on the face of the earth.
The thought of never being with Mason again makes me want to forget this whole night and crawl back under the covers.
Instead, I pull the black dress over my body. It’s snug and there’s no zipper, but the soft fabric has a little stretch to it. Leigh Anne rushes over to help me pull it into place.
“Wow,” she says, her eyes wide.
I turn to look in the mirror and have to agree. It’s gorgeous. It fits me perfectly.
Turns out not binging on chocolate might have actually been worth it for a change. Maybe.
“Braxton is going to flip out,” Leigh Anne says.
I groan. “How will I know if he’s really flipping out over me, or if he’s just flipping out over the thought of my parents’ money?”
Leigh Anne sits down on the bed. “Is that really what you think about every guy you go out with?”
“What? That he’s probably after my money?”
“No,” she says. “That he’ll like your money more than he likes you?”
I bite my lower lip and turn to the mirror again. I lift up on tiptoes, trying to picture which shoes will look best with this dress and trying to ignore what she’s saying.
“Even if you were poor, you’d still be just as beautiful,” she says.
“Would I?” I pull the tag off the dress and hand it to her. “If I were poor, I wouldn’t be wearing a $1200 dress that’s been sitting in my closet for four years.”
I don’t mention how much the underwear cost.
Leigh Anne crumples the tag. “The dress is great, but it’s the girl wearing the dress that’s special. You need to learn to see that for yourself or you’re never going to be happy.”
I shake my head. There’s no use arguing with her. She just doesn’t understand. No one knows what it feels like to be Tripp Wright’s only daughter. I can’t really complain to anyone about it, because all they see is the money and how fortunate I am to have all these things. If I complain, I look like an ungrateful bitch who doesn’t realize there are starving children in Africa or something.
Still, I know better than anyone that a lot of my relationships are based on money. If I lost everything tomorrow, I bet there are a lot of people I’d never hear from again.
I come to sit down beside her on the bed. “Enough about me, I can’t believe I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about the trial. I didn’t want to bring it up at the restaurant with everyone standing around. What’s been going on? How was your trip to Boston?”
I couldn’t believe it when I first found out about what happened to her in Boston. At first, it really hurt my feelings that she hadn’t told me earlier, but I was so proud of her when she stepped forward and told the truth. Life has been tough for her since then, but I have seen so much more of my old friend again lately, and I think that means she’s healing. I don’t think it’s ever the kind of thing you get over completely, but it’s good to see her laughing again.
Knox is a big part of that. Who knew he was such a sweet guy? I always thought he
was just a loner, or a loser. Goes to show you really can’t judge someone until you’ve walked in their shoes.
“It’s been really hard,” Leigh Anne says. “I was really happy so many other girls stepped forward to tell the truth, but just going through the whole re-telling of it so many times has been exhausting. I think I’ve told the story at least twenty different times now to different lawyers. I just want to be able to move on.”
I put my hand on hers. I have no idea what to say to her. I know nothing will take it all away or make it any easier. “It won’t last forever,” I say, but I know I sound stupid. “And once it’s over, he won’t be able to hurt anyone like that again.”
She gives me a small smile and squeezes my hand. “I know. It’s just going to be a while before it’s all over,” she says. “At least the media never really covered Knox’s past like we thought they would. It could have been such a nightmare.”
“The whole time he lived here, everyone whispered all these stories about how he killed someone or beat the shit out of someone and spent years in jail, but no one had any idea what kind of crazy shit he’d been through,” I say. “I still can’t believe it, to be honest. It sounds like something out of a movie.”
Knox’s father, a very rich and influential man in Chicago had called the police one night and gotten Knox arrested for beating his step-mother. Knox went to juvenile detention for two years for that, but it turned out he was never the one who hit her. It had been his dad all along. Apparently, his step-mom eventually got fed up with it and shot the asshole one day when he got home from work.
That woman’s my fucking hero. I wish I had the balls to go shoot the guy who raped my friend.
“Why do you think the press left it alone?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Knox thinks it’s because so many of us came forward,” she says. “If it had been just me, the media might have crucified me, saying I had a history of making bad choices, but with so many victims coming forward, I think it became pretty obvious that Burke really is a rapist asshole. Suddenly the coverage switched to our side and they started pulling all of his skeletons out of the closet.”
I snort. “Thank God for the fickle whims of the American Media.”