False Step

by Victoria Helen Stone

  He raised his beer, and bottles and glasses rose up everywhere. Two dozen arms, maybe? The crowd surged forward to grip his shoulder or offer tight, backslapping hugs. He’d been in a terrible mood for the past week or two, so it was nice to see him relaxed and happy. Things would be much less strained around the house now.

  Still, the celebration was too much for Veronica. Far too many decibels of joy.

  Overwhelmed by the press and noise, she found herself backing into the short hallway that led to their bedrooms. Someone had linked to their Bluetooth speakers and music started up. Veronica smiled at the few straggling guests she passed before she ducked into her room to shut the door. The cool air swept over her skin like physical relief. She yanked her phone from her pocket.

  There were quite a few texts, but they were all disappointments to her. Multiple versions of “OMG Johnny is on TV!” There was also a missed call from her sister, Trish. Veronica clicked on that notification and called back.

  “Jesus Christ!” her sister yelped when she picked up.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “All I know is what you see on TV. Johnny just got home, but the house is swarming with an impromptu celebration. Can you and Fitz come over and keep me company?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I assume you don’t need us to pick up beer?”

  Veronica snorted. Then she laughed. Then she positively guffawed. “Surprise,” she finally managed to say. “They seem to have the beer covered.”

  “See you in a few,” her sister said.

  It would be more than a few. Trish and her wife, Fitz, lived down in Parker, a good forty-minute drive at this time of day.

  They both taught at the same middle school, and the preteens loved that two of their favorite teachers were married. Trish taught science and Fitz—Ms. Zidan to her students—taught math. Sydney had been unable to say “Fatima” as a little girl, so Fitz had chosen the moniker “Auntie Fitz” herself. The memory of tiny Sydney curled up with her aunts still made Veronica smile. Both women were ridiculously cute nerds. Both were her best friends.

  Or they had been. Things had been a little different lately. A little distant. That was Veronica’s fault. But, distance or not, they would still drop everything to rush over when needed.

  She checked her phone one more time for the message she was really waiting for. Still nothing.

  After staring at the door for a few minutes, she sighed in resignation. She couldn’t hide in the bedroom forever. The street is a mess, she texted her sister. Come in the back way and park by the garage.

  Another cheer rose up from the living room. Veronica stood, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to walk into the fun.

  CHAPTER 4

  “This is insanity,” Trish groaned.

  “It’s actually cleared out a little.” Either that or the two glasses of champagne had made Veronica more tolerant of the crowd.

  A few of Johnny’s friends had left, probably for an evening shift at Dave & Buster’s, but his core group of gym buddies remained, and a few neighbors had dropped by as well. Of course Kay Ronsom was right in the middle of them, laughing at all of Johnny’s jokes.

  Veronica and Trish and Fitz had retreated to the small dining room. They mostly had a view of male backs crowding the front rooms, but at least it was quiet enough that they could speak at an almost normal volume.

  “The story is everywhere now,” Fitz said, looking up from her phone. “But it’s really just the first video of Johnny and the little boy. Nobody cares about you.”

  “Thanks,” Veronica said, and she meant it. She’d stammered out the whole story of the news crews when her sister had arrived, explaining away her freak-out as general self-consciousness, but both of the other women had agreed that nobody gave a damn about her when they could watch video of the rescue itself. Still, her phone had blown up after the evening news. Every client she’d ever worked with had seemingly reached out. She’d eventually given up and turned off her phone.

  “No word from the Holcomb family yet?” she asked for the third time in the past hour.

  Fitz tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and scrolled through her feed. “Not that I’ve seen. Apparently they’re still at the hospital. I bet once they leave, even Johnny will be off the front page.”

  “I doubt it,” Trish said. “He’s already got a fan page dedicated to him on Facebook.”

  Veronica groaned. “Twenty dollars says Neesa started it.”

  Trish rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes right back. Johnny’s business partner, Neesa Marin, had been a point of contention in her marriage for nearly two years. She was petite and ripped and she had flawless skin, and Veronica had been jealous of her from the moment they’d met. But they were just friends, Johnny promised. Just friends.

  She’d tried to believe him two years ago when they’d started working out together. She’d ignored the hurt and fear and heartache that Neesa had brought back to the surface, but all those feelings had been simmering there the whole time, even with her back turned.

  Last year, Neesa had proposed starting a personal-training company with Johnny, because she had lots of portable home equipment and he had more experience. As far as Veronica could tell, the business meant they had weekly meetings at a brewery and never made any progress. Luckily, Veronica now had another focus for her darker emotions, and her old heartbreak felt more like the annoying ache of a healing wound.

  “Regardless,” her sister said, “don’t worry about all the attention. I’m sure it won’t go to his head.”

  They all collapsed in laughter at that. Not that Trish didn’t like Johnny. She liked him fine. Everybody did. But she’d been one of the few who’d urged Veronica not to marry him in the first place. I’ll help you raise this baby. You’ll be okay. You’re too young to get married.

  But if she hadn’t been too young for a baby, she hadn’t been too young for a husband. Right?

  Sydney had been the nudge into adulthood she and Johnny had both needed. Finish college, get real jobs, get married, have the baby, buy a house! He’d brought up abortion, of course, but Veronica had convinced herself that it had been a halfhearted suggestion. They’d been wildly in love. Or blindly in love.

  He’d been sweet and kind throughout the pregnancy, though he’d chafed a little under the constraints of caring for a newborn. Who didn’t? But once the trips to the playground had started, Johnny had truly blossomed. A handsome young man with an adorable toddler? Good Lord, he’d been invited to every playgroup in the city. And maybe a few the next county over.

  Veronica had been so lucky. Everyone had told her that constantly, and she’d known it too. So, so lucky. She’d had a gorgeous, adorable husband who helped with the child-rearing. The other moms had jokingly whispered their envy in her ear. Veronica had been determined to manage the dynamic better than her own mother had, but every year she’d felt more and more exhausted by the vigilance. Then she’d failed. She’d looked away. Lost her hold on him. And she’d paid the price.

  Someone ordered pizza, and others volunteered to pay, thank God, because a giant stack of pizzas arrived, and Veronica could not afford to put anything else on their credit card. It wasn’t maxed out, but the remaining balance was inching up each month as they awaited the windfall of New Year’s resolutions that January would bring.

  But they wouldn’t have to wait for January this year. Johnny had already mentioned several times that his voice mail box was getting full.

  He’s going to leave me, she thought, then gulped down her last swig of wine, wondering how the idea could possibly still sting.

  She was in pretty good shape, but she wasn’t stacked or ripped or whatever the hottest women were these days. She wasn’t Neesa. She was just . . . the breadwinner. That was what she brought to the relationship these days. Or it had been until tonight.

  “Sydney!” Trish called out, and Syd raced
over to give her a big hug despite the fact that she’d already hugged Fitz and Trish several times. She was too big to crawl into Trish’s lap now, but she did it anyway.

  Trish kissed her forehead. “Did you get some pizza?”

  “Not yet. But I took Dad two big pieces.”

  “That’s good. I’m sure he worked up quite an appetite today.”

  “I gave Old Man a piece too.”

  Veronica winced, hoping nobody else had done the same or she’d be cleaning up diarrhea in the morning. “I got him a bone, sweetie. I’ll give that to him as a treat. No more people food.”

  Trish squeezed her niece tight. “Go get yourself some pizza, munchkin, okay? You don’t want to run out of energy. And have a glass of milk.”

  “Okay.”

  After watching Sydney race away, Trish raised an eyebrow. “She’s a daddy’s girl just like you.”

  Veronica sighed as she nodded. “Yeah, but only in some ways.” A daddy’s girl, yes, but Sydney was more than that too. She was fearless and outgoing and confident. Maybe that would help her be more daring than Veronica had ever been. Someone had to break this cycle eventually.

  Veronica would definitely have been the one to bring her dad a drink or food at a party, but she’d never have left his side to mingle with the other guests. She’d been too desperate to hoard all his attention for herself.

  And then . . . Well, then she’d married a man just like dear old Dad. Surprise, surprise: she’d also managed to turn into her mother along the way. Or maybe she’d turned into Johnny’s mother, taking care of his bills and laundry and all the responsibilities that were too boring to hold his attention.

  Stop it, she scolded herself. Your husband is a hero.

  As if on cue, the sound of the TV blared to life with a news report. Whoever was holding the remote turned it up loud so everyone could hear it over the music. Veronica squeezed her eyes shut at the racket.

  “We want to thank all of the searchers, everyone who put their hearts and souls into finding our little Tanner—”

  Veronica lurched to her feet and moved toward the living room.

  “And the police, who never gave up looking for my grandson. And all the thanks in the world to Mr. Bradley. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Her home exploded with cheers again. Veronica could just make out Johnny’s head above the crowd.

  “He’s fine,” she heard Hank Holcomb say through her living room speakers. It sounded as if he were in the room with them. “Tanner is really doing great. Thank you.”

  By the time she’d pushed her way to the front, hoping to get a glimpse of the Holcombs, reporters were shouting questions, but the patriarch of the family was turning away with a wave. None of the other family members, whose faces had become so familiar in the past few days, appeared anywhere on-screen.

  Veronica had desperately wanted to see Tanner’s mother, to see the relief and joy on her face. The boy had looked so limp in Johnny’s arms, and Veronica needed proof that he was truly okay.

  A small man wearing square glasses stepped into place before the countless microphones. He offered nothing interesting, only more assurances that Tanner would be fine, along with a plea to treat the Holcombs with respect as they spent time with their cherished child.

  “As you can imagine, the Holcomb family is eager to get little Tanner home and comfortable, so they’ll be answering questions at a later date. Thank you for respecting their privacy. God bless you and have a great night.”

  The gaggle of reporters exploded into shouting again, but the man just waved and smiled before walking away.

  The Holcombs had been famous in Colorado long before this story. Hank Holcomb’s father had started out in ranching in the mountains of central Colorado, but Hank had one day realized that the true value of his family’s acreage was a natural spring that cascaded straight out of the rock a mile from the homestead. Pure Rocky Mountain spring water. It marketed itself. And so a fortune had been born.

  It didn’t hurt his reputation that Hank was a tall and hardy cowboy with sparkling green eyes and a chiseled jaw. He’d starred in his own commercials and charmed the whole country as a good-hearted outdoorsman who loved to gaze out benevolently over his lands. He’d graced half the young women of Colorado with that good-heartedness in the eighties if the rumors were to be believed, but he’d finally settled down with a beautiful blonde who’d given birth to four sons. Four blond, chiseled chips off the old block.

  Those sons had grown up as Colorado icons. All handsome. All athletic. Two of them were champion downhill skiers. Then they’d all married and had kids, and married again sometimes. Now there were dozens of grandkids constantly scrambling over a massive compound in the mountains above Denver, which was how little Tanner had come to wander away from luxury into the wilds of the Rocky Mountains.

  The camera cut to a young male reporter, who recapped the evening, but the sound was interrupted by a booming knock on Veronica’s front door.

  She froze at the alarming sound, picturing a squad of stone-faced police come to convey the horrible news that there had been a mistake. The boy was not fine at all. He was dead or damaged beyond repair and the celebration needed to end.

  A web of muscles beneath Veronica’s skin tightened, raising all the hairs on her body. What was that? A leftover gene from primate ancestors who could puff up their fur to look more dangerous when threatened? Her whole body prickled.

  Then Johnny opened the door, and it was a far less menacing threat than the police. A mere annoyance, really. Trey Swallow with his bleach-blond flattop and his two beefy sidekicks.

  The hairs on her body lay down, but her lip lifted in a sneer instead. God, she hated these men. In fact, Trey Swallow had inspired one of the only ultimatums she’d ever issued in her marriage: if Johnny wanted to hang out with Trey and his boys, it wouldn’t ever be in her house. But here they were again, walking in as if they were welcome.

  It was Johnny’s big night. Veronica wouldn’t cause trouble. She wouldn’t kick Trey out. But God, how had this become her crowd?

  It was Johnny’s big night. Veronica wouldn’t cause trouble. She wouldn’t kick Trey out. But God, how had this become her crowd?

  Shaking her head, she made her way back toward the dining room and the waiting bottle of champagne. She knew exactly how it had become her crowd. The same way she’d become one of those women who regarded every other nearby female as a threat: she’d married Johnny.

  Just as she reached the hand-me-down hutch that marked the imaginary boundary of the dining room, the front door opened again. She glanced back to see another group of arrivals. The man in the doorway was one of Johnny’s best friends, Micah. Unlike Trey, he was lean and smart and wore a starched button-down shirt and dark slacks instead of workout gear.

  Micah looked over the room, scanning the other guests, and then his eyes met hers. She slipped back into the seat next to her sister and glanced at the floor, afraid someone would notice the way her gaze sharpened with attraction at the sight of him. He was nothing like the rest of Johnny’s social circle. He’d moved to California after college and had returned to Denver two years earlier. He was sharp and ambitious and successful.

  When she looked up again, she saw the other people who’d shown up behind Micah: Neesa and her big, tattooed husband.

  Great.

  Someone had helpfully refilled Veronica’s glass. She drank half of the bubbly in one gulp as she watched the beautiful young black woman hurry across the room to throw herself into Johnny’s arms.

  “Maybe I should get you some pizza,” Fitz offered.

  “Sounds great, but it won’t stop me from getting drunk.”

  “Girl, this has been a hell of a day. I wouldn’t try to take away your right to get drunk tonight. But I would like to prevent a severe hangover.”

  “Thanks. Aren’t you two eating?”

  Trish leaned close and put her hand on Veronica’s. “We ate right after work. We’ll proba
bly leave soon.”

  Veronica felt adrift at the idea, which was ridiculous. This was her own house and she knew most of the people here. “Yeah, I know you both have an early morning. And this isn’t exactly your crowd. I’ll probably head to bed myself as soon as I tuck Sydney in.”

  “The question is, will she stay tucked in?”

  Veronica snorted. “I doubt it, but what I don’t know won’t hurt me. I’ll be asleep before my head hits the pillow.”

  “Even with this noise?” Trish’s tipped head and raised eyebrows hinted that she’d thought of a more colorful word than noise.

  Veronica laughed. “Yes, I’m totally exhausted. I don’t know why. It just felt like something . . . awful was happening. Or about to happen. Does that make sense? Maybe just because it was such a near miss for that boy. I don’t know. It’s all been so bizarre.”

  “You just became a main feature in a missing-child case. Of course you’re freaking out a little.”

  “Just a little.” She rubbed her forehead. “I should probably call Mom.”

  “I already texted and let her know your phone was off. She’s fine. Dad is too.”

  “Right. Thank you.” Their mom had always been the point of communication in the family. The touchstone. It had been two years since the split, but Veronica still wasn’t used to having to reach out to Dad too. Or maybe she just didn’t want to bother.

  Fitz slid two slices of supreme pizza onto the table and nudged the plate toward Veronica.

  “Thank you,” Veronica said in as cheery a voice as she could manage. “You’re always taking care of me. But I’m fine. I swear. You two get home and relax. Nobody else here has to be to work at seven thirty.”

  “Are you sure?” Fitz asked.

  “Of course. I’m fine. We’re celebrating!”

  “What if people just start . . . spontaneously working out? Then what will you do?”