by Sarra Cannon
Jenna puts my bag up on the counter. She turns and looks around the store. “Just us in here right now, right?”
“Looks like it,” the guy on the stool says.
“Okay, good,” she says. “Here’s the deal. My friend here needs cash fast. Off the record.”
“Whoa, now,” Rocco says, holding both hands up defensively. “Off the record isn’t something I do for just anybody. You know that.”
“You owe me, Rocco,” she says. “I’m calling in a personal favor. Please, you gotta help her.”
“I don’t gotta do nothin’,” he says. He shrugs and eyes the bag. “But for you, I’ll take a look.”
I step closer. The diamond bracelet is still in the bag, and I don’t really want to just offer that up first thing, but I have no idea how to do this and I don’t want to say something wrong or piss these guys off.
I tap Jenna’s arm and she ignores me.
I tap it again.
She jerks her head toward me. “What?”
I lean toward her and whisper in her ear. “There’s a bracelet in there that I’m not sure I can sell. Can I just get that out first? Then he can look at the rest of it.”
“Yeah, sure.” She scoots the bag toward me and I unzip it. I have to dig through to find the bracelet. I close my fist around it, and stuff it in my pocket.
“Done,” I say with a smile. I’ve never felt more awkward in my life.
Jenna pushes the bag toward Rocco.
He opens it and starts laying items out one at a time. He makes notes on a pad of paper. It takes him about twenty minutes, but he finally circles something, then turns the paper around and scoots it across the counter toward us.
Jenna looks to me, an eyebrow raised in question.
The notepad has a bunch of figures written on it. The one that’s circled is $1600.
I close my eyes and let out a frustrated rush of air. “That’s for everything?” I ask.
“That’s for even exchange,” Rocco says. “Cash in hand.”
Fuck. I need a hell of a lot more than that.
“There’s got to be at least ten thousand dollars worth of stuff in there.”
“Look, this ain’t a department store,” he says with a laugh. “You want cash, this is the best I can do. Unless you wanna show me what’s in your pocket?”
I swallow. I know I should just take whatever he’s offering and walk out the door, but I can’t. It’s not enough.
I slowly pull the bracelet out of my pocket and lay it across the counter.
Rocco whistles and reaches under the counter for a small black box that has what looks like a metal pen top on one end. He switches it on and presses the metal probe onto the top of each diamond. He waits for a beeping sound, then moves to the next until he’s tested every single diamond on the bracelet.
“This is really something special,” he says. He looks up and lets his eyes drift from mine all the way down to my knees. “Where did you get this?”
“It’s mine,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” he says. “Where’d you really get it? I can’t buy stolen merchandise.”
My shoulders slump and I press my palms against the edge of the counter. “It’s my mother’s.”
“You stole it from her?”
“Not exactly,” I say. “She let me wear it a few nights ago. I got into an accident and it ended up in a plastic bag inside my purse. For all she knows, it was lost in the accident.”
“So she doesn’t know you still have it?”
I shake my head. Guilt churns my stomach, but what choice do I have? My mother has hundreds of these kinds of things. Bracelets, rings, earrings, watches. Does she really need another diamond bracelet more than this baby needs his surgery? No way.
It’s easy to rationalize in my head, but I know what I’m doing is still wrong.
“Two thousand dollars,” he says, running the bracelet through his hand.
“I need five thousand dollars,” I say bluntly. “For all of it.”
“Don’t dick around with her, Rocco,” Jenna says. “Give her the five grand. This stuff is worth a hell of a lot more than that and you know it.”
He lets a burst of air out through his lips, then raises his hands and backs away. “That’s a lot of money for something under-the-table like this. I’m the one taking all the risk.”
“Please,” I say, meeting his eyes straight on.
Rocco sighs and looks at the guy sitting on the chair. They exchange heavy looks until finally, the other guy shrugs.
Rocco holds his hand over the counter to me.
I put my hand in his, and we shake on it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nurse Valerie takes the envelope from my hand, tears shining in her eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to the family yourself?” she asks. “I’m sure they’d love to know who donated this money. They’re going to want to say thank you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to bring any extra attention to it,” I say.
She smiles. “You’ve done so much for so many families here. How come you don’t ever want anyone to say thank you?”
I look down at my feet. I think about all the money I’ve spent on myself in the past couple years. New clothes. A new car. Anything and everything I wanted. “Because I do so much less than I should,” I say, looking up to meet her gaze. “Keep me updated on how the baby does, okay?”
“I will,” she says.
I keep my head down as I make my way back to the parking lot. I know Jenna’s waiting for me, but I step to the side and lean against the brick wall. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Mason’s number again.
Please answer.
I tap my toes inside my shoes as the phone rings. The line picks up, and I expect it to be voice-mail again. But it isn’t.
“Hey,” he says. He sounds tired.
“Hey,” I say. My heart beats fast in my chest.
Silence passes between us. Two days of not talking felt like an eternity, but now that I have him on the phone, I have no idea what to say.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I lean my head back against the rough bricks. “I’m okay,” I say. “I’m sorry about your car. Are you pissed?”
He hesitates and my chest tightens. “Yes,” he says. “But not about the car. Fuck the car. I’m pissed at myself.”
“No, this was my fault, Mason. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were angry,” he says. “Frustrated. That’s on me. I’m not good for you Penny, can’t you see that?”
My insides tighten and knot. “That’s not true.”
I want to tell him we belong together, but the harder I cling to him, the faster he pulls away.
“It is,” he says. “The last few times we’ve been together, you’ve gotten out of control. I don’t want to be responsible for that. You deserve better than me, Pen. Better than what I’m able to give you. Look, there are things you don’t know about me. If you knew what kind of guy I really was, you’d be running.”
I slide down the wall, my legs not wanting to hold me up any longer. I can’t lose him now, but I have no idea how to turn this around. I don’t want better. All I want is him.
“I’m not perfect, either,” I say.
“I gotta go,” he says. “Take care of yourself, Pen. I mean it.”
It sounds like a goodbye. I bury my free hand in my hair and pull. What do I do? What can I do?
“Wait,” I say, my voice shaky. “I need to see you.”
“I can’t,” he says. He draws in a long breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you more than I already have.”
“This was my fault,” I say. “Dammit, don’t push me away just because you think that’s what’s best for me. That’s not for you to decide. If you don’t want to see me, that’s one thing, but don’t say it’s because you don’t want to hurt me. That�
�s bullshit. Not being able to talk to you the past few days has hurt me more than anything. How can you not know that?”
He groans. “Tomorrow night some of us were talking about getting together at Knox’s lake house,” he said. “I wasn’t planning on going because I figured you’d be there, but if you really want to talk, I’ll go.”
I breathe out and the tension I’ve been holding in my body releases. “Thank you.”
“I really do need to go,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“And Penny?”
“Yes.”
He pauses. “I’m really glad you’re safe.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s nice to be able to skip out on dinner with my parents the following night. They aren’t speaking to me. Their anger and disappointment hangs like a Georgia heat in the air, suffocating me.
I am nervous about seeing some of my friends again, but Leigh Anne promises tonight will be close friends only. No big parties. No drinking.
No judgment.
She picks me up at six-thirty and my stomach is in nervous knots the entire ride to the lake house. For some reason, I feel like tonight could make all the difference. Like when I see Mason’s eyes, I’ll know if there’s hope or if I’m going to have to do this on my own.
When we get there, though, I’m disappointed to see he’s not there yet.
Knox, Leigh Anne, and Jenna are here already. Preston joins us half an hour later. By the time Summer’s car comes bouncing down the path, I’m starting to feel anxious.
What if he’s not coming?
Knox and Preston cook chicken on the grill with fresh vegetables and bread. I’m relieved when no one brings up the accident. Conversation is easy and relaxed. Mostly, we talk about the upcoming school year.
I take my time eating, one eye on the road leading up to the house.
As the sun disappears behind the trees, so does my hope.
“Thanks for not being completely pissed at me,” I say as I stand to help Knox bring the plates inside to the kitchen. “I never wanted to get you or the bar in any trouble.”
Knox shrugs. “I was honestly more worried about you than anything,” he says. “I had no idea you’d even left. I thought you were just going outside to talk. I never would have let you drive home. Not in a million years.”
“I know.” My cheeks warm and the food in my stomach turns. I’ve barely had an appetite the past few days. Every time I eat, my stomach hurts like this. I’m not sure if it’s the start of morning sickness or if it’s just the constant nervous anxiety. “I didn’t mean to drive off either. I was just so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m really glad you didn’t get into any trouble over it.”
He takes the plates from my hand and runs them under the water, then sets them into the open dishwasher. “Me too,” he says. “To be honest, it’s been a really crazy summer. Ever since all the publicity from Leigh Anne’s case, people have been packing into the bar every night. It’s been great for us, don’t get me wrong, but man, dealing with all the fake ID’s and attention has been a real nightmare.”
“Have you had a lot of fake ID’s coming through there?”
“More than you want to know,” he says. “I know it sounds awful, but I never really cared so much before. I knew all the regulars and didn’t care if one of my twenty-year-old friends wanted to grab a drink or two. But now? We aren’t exactly flying under the radar anymore. The money’s good, but the attention sucks. Rob’s used to have this very laid back atmosphere, but now it’s gotten fast-paced and hectic, everyone pushing to get a table or angry they didn’t get their drinks fast enough. It’s exhausting. It makes me feel like I’m back in Chicago again. Back in the rat race.”
I sit down at the small table in the kitchen and watch as he finishes rinsing off the dishes. I hadn’t realized how unhappy Knox was about the bar getting busy. I would have thought it would be exciting for their family to start bringing in some good revenue. It never occurred to me they liked it the way it was.
“What if you hired someone for the door,” I say. “A bouncer who’s in charge of checking all the ID’s. Twenty-one and up only or maybe armbands for underage people. That way you wouldn’t have to constantly check them at the bar. Then you can limit how many people can be inside at once, too. Keep the crowd as big or small as you want.”
Knox throws the wet dish towel into the sink and turns around. His eyebrows are cinched in the middle, like he’s thinking it through for a minute. “You know, that might actually help,” he says, giving me a little smile. “Dang, I never thought about that, Penny. It’s been the three of us working the bar for so long, I didn’t really think about hiring help. You’re a genius.”
I smile back. God, it feels good to be praised for something after the week I’ve had. “I don’t know about genius,” I say. “It’s basic business, really.”
“What is?” Leigh Anne asks, stepping into the kitchen.
“Penny had a great idea about hiring a bouncer for the bar,” Knox says. He starts to tell her more when headlights flash through the windows. The road leading up to the cabin is bumpy and rough and the lights bounce up and down like search lights.
I stand, my heart in my throat.
Leigh Anne comes to stand beside me. “Is it Mason?”
I can’t answer. I can only wait and watch. And hope.
I am trying to judge the shape and color of the car, but then realize I have no idea what he’ll be driving. I completely totaled his car.
Preston and the others walk into the room, their laughter carrying through the hallway.
I don’t even turn to look at them. My eyes are glued to the car outside as it stops and the lights cut off.
From the lights mounted on the sides of the lake house, I can see enough to make out that it isn’t a car at all. It’s a truck.
When the driver gets out and stands up, I know instantly it’s him.
I know the movement of his body as if it were my own. I’ve spent so many hours watching him and loving him that I’d know him by a single turn of his cheek.
“Let’s head outside,” Preston says, patting Knox’s shoulder. “I’ve got a cooler full of sodas. We can get a fire going and sit out there for a while.”
As Leigh Anne passes by me, she grips my shoulders and gives me a hug.
Most of the group heads through the house toward the front porch, but I hang back to talk to Mason.
My hand trembles as I turn the knob on the back door and pull it open.
He freezes when he sees me. His face is half in shadow, but his eyes are on me. And mine are on him.
“You’re late,” I say, breathless.
“I almost didn’t come,” he says. There’s a sadness in his voice that can’t be denied, and I wonder if everything is broken between us.
And if there’s any way to fix it.
“I understand if you’re mad at me,” I say, nervous. “If you didn’t want to see me.”
He shakes his head, then looks down at his feet as if he’ll find the right words down there. “I’m not mad at you. Believe me, I wanted to see you more than ever,” he says. When he looks up at me, there’s something in his eyes that scares me. “I’m going to be taking off for a while, Pen.”
The words make my knees almost give out. My entire stomach lurches and I struggle to breathe in. “What do you mean?”
I’m hoping he’s going to say something like he’s going on a three-day trip to Vegas like he’s done a few times before, but before he answers, I already know it’s going to be more than that. This is why he wanted to see me tonight. To say goodbye.
He steps onto the porch and his face comes into the light. There are circles under his eyes. “I’ve got to get out of this town for a while,” he says. “I’ve been thinking it for months, honestly. It’s just time. Things have gotten stale for me here.”
“How long is a while?” I ask, my hands shaking a little. I shove them in t
he pockets of my jeans so he won’t see. “A week or two?”
He shakes his head. His eyes are full of apologies and regrets. “I was thinking maybe a few months or so.”
Months? As if my world hasn’t shattered enough in the past week, Mason’s just taken a hammer to it.
I want to sit down right here on the floor and lay my head against the smooth, cool wood of the door frame. I hear laughter out on the front side of the house, but I feel like I will never laugh again. All I want to do is sit down and disappear.
I want to go to sleep and wake up a week ago so I can fix all this and go back to the way things were.
I want to tell him don’t go, but I know I have no power over him. I never have. Instead, I ask, “Are you leaving because of me? Because of what I did?”
“It’s complicated,” he says.
My heart sinks low in my chest and I feel hope draining from me. He fiddles with the keys in his hand.
“I’m so sorry about your car,” I say. “You loved that car.”
His head pops up and he looks me in the eyes. “Love is a strong word for a car,” he says.
I’ve never heard him say anything like that in his life. He’s babied that damn car for the past two years.
“What did you get instead? Is that a truck?”
He gives me a half smile and glances back. “Come here,” he says. He holds his hand out to me. “I’ll show you.”
My heart skips a beat as I reach for him.
When our hands touch, he rubs his thumb softly against the top of my fingers. That’s when I know, for the first time, that my brother was right.
There’s more here than lust. There’s a tenderness to Mason’s touch that sends shivers down my spine.
For him, it might not be love. Not yet. But it gives me hope.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mason leads me back outside to where the cars are parked. I don’t know exactly what I’m expecting, but a rusted beat-up Ford pickup is probably the last thing. It doesn’t seem like Mason at all.
Mason’s the guy who likes flashy cars with perfect red paint and sleek shiny lines.
He’s the guy who once nearly punched a random stranger for touching his car in the parking lot of a concert.