by Ivy Layne
J.T. was waiting in the kitchen of the apartment we'd shared over the bakery. He barely gave me a chance to come in before he jumped on my ass.
“What the fuck is going on, Daze? Why is all your stuff packed? How could you quit on Grams?”
I set the berries and Royal's keys on the kitchen counter before I turned to J.T. His familiar face was twisted with anger, his green eyes hard. I got it. He loved Grams almost as much as I did. She'd given him a home when his parents had kicked him out, had showered him with her love, just like she had with me.
“What did she tell you?” I asked, rinsing the berries under the sink.
“That you've been fighting with your parents and decided you couldn't work with them.”
I went still for a second before slowly turning to face J.T. “That's it? That's all she said?”
He shoved his hands in his back pockets, eyes narrowing. “Pretty much. She started to cry as soon as she saw me, so I didn't get a lot. She begged me to talk you into coming back.”
“Huh.” I finished rinsing the berries and started to trim the tops from the strawberries. “So, she didn't say anything about partnering with Dad in the bakery instead of me?”
“No,” J.T. said slowly. “She didn't mention that. You're kidding, right? Your dad's never done a day of work in his life.”
“He's turning over a new leaf, I guess.” I shrugged and concentrated on trimming berries. “He said she's making him a partner and leaving the bakery to him in her will with the stipulation that when he dies it comes to me. According to him, I'm an employee. Not even a manager. And he's my boss. I have to do what I'm told or get out. So, I left.”
J.T.'s hands fell to his sides. “Why would Grams do that? She didn't give him access to the banking stuff, did she? The checkbook or the safe?”
I set aside the berries and got out the rest of the ingredients. “I warned her not to. I hope she listened.”
“You need to talk to her—” he started.
“And you should know,” I went on as if he hadn't spoken, “that I'm the reason we haven't started building the deck for outdoor seating or made any of the other improvements we planned.”
I set the canister of flour on the counter and turned to face J.T. I'd lied to him for way too long. He deserved my full attention now that I was finally coming clean.
“Dad came to me in the fall and asked for a private meeting. Said he had a business plan, and he needed a little capital to get going.”
“Aww, Daze.” J.T. sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “Tell me you didn't.”
“I did. And I used money from the bakery.”
J.T. banged his forehead against the table. Once, then twice. Sitting up, he gave me his most pitying look and shook his head. “Daisy, babe, you're smarter than this.”
“I know,” I wailed, expecting to start crying again at the sheer relief of finally telling the truth, but I found myself laughing instead, shaking my head back at J.T. “I know I am, but he had spreadsheets, and charts, and a business plan. He was wearing a suit! He was so sincere, and I thought that this time, maybe—”
“Or maybe not,” J.T. finished for me.
“Definitely not. Because when he came back and I started hounding him for the money, first he said he was working on it, and then he said it was his bakery and his money, and if I kept asking he'd press charges. Felony theft.”
“Shit, Daze, that's low.”
I turned from the table and started to weigh flour. J.T. shoved back from his chair and joined me. “Mixed berry pie?” he asked.
“Yep.” I shoved the berries at him. “You can deal with these while I get the dough started.”
“Might as well tell me the rest. You quit because Grams shut you out in favor of Darren?”
“Well, yeah. That and a bunch of other things. But I don't care about the job. Not right now. It's so much worse than just the bakery and Grams.”
We worked side by side as I filled him in on the rest. By the time we were weaving the strips of crust over the top of the pie, J.T. was shaking his head again. “Sorry I yelled at you about Grams. I would have walked too.”
“Yeah, I know. And I hate that I made her cry. I just… I can't stand by her side while she lets Dad have free rein on the business. She wants to hope he's changed, but we both know that's never going to happen.”
I slid the pie in the oven and started a pot of coffee. I leaned into J.T.’s shoulder as we watched it drip into the glass carafe.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
I glanced out the window at the setting sun. “I don't know,” I lied.
I knew what I had to do, I just wasn't ready to do it.
Not yet.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daisy
We filled our mugs and went to sit on the sofa as we had so many times before. I sat beside J.T. and let my head tilt to rest on his shoulder. As I knew it would, his arm came around me.
We sat in silence, sipping our coffee. When he spoke, I thought he was going to tell me what to do about Grams or Royal. I was wrong.
“I've been seeing someone. At school.”
I froze inside. This was what I'd been waiting for. For J.T. to talk to me like he used to. I tried to play it cool. “I figured that.”
“His name is Clay. He's, uh, he's— I'm, um…” J.T. sucked in a quick breath. “I'm gay.”
“I know, dumbass.” I ducked my head forward to catch his eyes. “Is that what this has been about? You didn't know how to tell me?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I guess? It happened so fast—”
A laugh burst from my gut, so big I almost spilled my coffee. I set the mug on the table and turned to sit sideways on the sofa, facing J.T.
“Fast? You call that fast? You got kicked out of your house for kissing a boy like seven years ago! And you haven't kissed anyone else since then! Fast?”
“Well, I mean…” J.T. shifted under my laughing gaze.
“Am I right? Clay is the first guy you've dated?”
“You know he is.” J.T. relaxed a bit, finally getting that I wasn't mad, but I was going to give him shit. He'd given me enough over Royal. It was only fair.
“Fast,” I muttered again, laughter still bubbling up. This time, J.T. laughed with me. “Is he nice? Is he good to you? I want to see pictures.”
“He's amazing. He's funny, and sweet, and so cute. I swear—”
J.T. pulled out his phone and started to swipe for pics. I settled back into the sofa beside him, leaning into his side as I sipped my coffee and waited. When he showed me the screen of his phone, I grinned.
A handsome blond man stared back at me. A little older than us, maybe late twenties, with ocean blue eyes and golden stubble on his cheeks. He wasn't runway model handsome like J.T., but he was adorable, and the earnest affection in his eyes was all I needed to see.
“Do I get to meet him?” I asked. “Are you going to bring him home now that you told me?”
“I haven't told Grams,” he said, and the caution in his voice made my heart hurt.
“Maybe you should wait until this thing with my dad is resolved. Grams won't care about you dating a guy, she'll be happy for you, but my parents will be assholes if they hear about it. Neither of you should have to put up with that.”
We sipped our coffee in silence for a moment, finally in perfect accord after so many months of weirdness. Into the quiet, I said, “I'm glad you told me. I knew you needed time, so I didn't want to push, but you know I love you, right? You're my family. I don't care who you sleep with, I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. Now that things are good with us, I'm happy. I'll bring him to meet you. Soon.”
“Soon,” I agreed.
“Can I keep the apartment after you move into Heartstone Manor? Or are you going
to be too good for me once you're living in the big house?”
“I'm not moving into Heartstone.”
J.T. just gave me a look, one dark brow arched above his piercing green eyes. “Sure, you aren't.”
“I'm not. I don't know. I can't think about that yet.”
“Then what are you going to do? You can't hide out in here forever, and I know you're not baking that pie for us.”
“I'm not. But before I bring it to Royal, I have to call West.”
J.T. leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I knew you were a smart girl, Daze.”
“Sometimes, I am. And sometimes, I'm a dumbass.”
“We're all dumbasses every once in a while.”
I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. Before I could dial the police department, a knock fell on my door. I jolted, panic spiking through me.
J.T. stood. “Keep your phone in your hand. If that's anyone other than Royal or Grams, go ahead and call West. Especially if it's your dad. Got it?”
I nodded in agreement. I lurched to my feet, ready to bolt for the privacy of the bedroom to make my call if J.T. gave me the signal. He checked the peephole and laughed.
Swinging open the door, he let West into the apartment. “I swear, you have ESP or something. We were just going to call you.”
“I talked to Royal,” West said simply. “He suggested you might have some information for me about what's been going on at The Inn.”
Maybe I should have been mad at Royal for talking to West, but I couldn't be. I should have called West myself the second I'd seen the Inn uniform in my father's room. I hadn't figured out exactly what to say or how to say it. Now I was out of time.
I poured West a cup of coffee and gestured to the table. He sat and waited. I sucked in a deep breath and said, “I stole twenty thousand dollars from the bakery. I gave it to my father for a business venture that turned out to be fake, and he said if I didn't come back to work he'd talk Grams into pressing felony theft charges against me. That's why I didn't call you a few hours ago.”
I paused for breath. “Well, that and I'm afraid of what's going to happen to my family after I show you what I found.”
West nodded slowly. “Why don't you show me, and I'll do my best to make this easy on you.”
I sank into a chair at the table, J.T. by my side, and swiped through my phone for the pictures I'd taken in my dad's room. I told West everything. The missing contract with my father, that he'd pretty much admitted to the break-in, the meeting I'd seen and heard between my dad and Vanessa, and so much more. Together we listened to the video I'd taken earlier. There wasn't much to see, but there was plenty to hear.
When I was done, it was West's turn. “I already have my people looking for Vanessa. I'll go pick up your dad myself. If they know anything about Prentice's murder, I'll get it out of them. If your dad comes here, you call me. Do not open the door. Understand?”
“Yes, but what about the money? I didn't think of it that way at the time, but technically, I stole it from Grams.” I should have kept my mouth shut, but the specter of felony charges dangled over my head.
West gave me a steady, calm look. “I have plenty of evidence against your dad and Vanessa, but I don't have any evidence against you. If your Grandmother provides it and presses charges, that's a different story.”
“But… My dad said—” It's not that I was trying to get West to arrest me, but the idea of false hope was even worse.
“Daisy, I think you already know your dad is in a lot of trouble. He's making threats to save his ass, but they aren't going to work. He doesn't have any standing in the bakery right now. Only your grandmother can assess the bakery's finances and determine if there was a theft. And, honey,” West gave a shake of his head, “Eleanor is not going to press felony theft charges against you. No way in hell.”
I dropped my head to stare at the tabletop. I used to believe that, too. That Grams loved me best, that she'd always have my back. But now…
West reached out to take my hand. “Daisy, look at me.” I did, and the kindness in his face was too much. A tear ran down my cheek, chased by another.
“I'm so tired of crying,” I muttered, brushing the tear away with the back of my free hand.
“Hopefully, we'll get this sorted out with your father and you won't have to cry anymore. But I need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” I nodded. “Your father is full of shit. He's an opportunist and a liar and no one in this town has any idea how he came from Eleanor. She did right with you, but your father is a waste of space.”
West sighed and leaned back, letting go of my hand. “Darren talks a good game, and Eleanor loves him, so right now she's letting him turn her head. She's confused. But I promise you, she is not going to press charges against you. No fucking way.”
The buzzer on the oven went off and J.T. took the pie out, sliding it onto a cooling rack. Turning to me, he said, “West is right, Daze. Grams was upset, and she doesn't get why you left because your dad is messing with her, but there's no way she'll press charges.”
I scrubbed my palms over my cheeks. I was still wearing my damp clothes, my eyes were red from crying, and my hair was all over the place. Before I took the next step, I needed to get myself together. First, I had a question for West.
“Is Royal still at The Inn? Do you know?”
West raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew he was answering as Royal's friend, not as the chief of police. “He is. He's pretty miserable right now. Feels like shit for calling me and dragging you into this.”
“He isn't the one who dragged me into this,” I burst out. “I couldn't tell him.” I choked on the words but forced them out. “I couldn't tell him it was my dad. I was so ashamed that my family did this to him.”
West sighed. “Go see him. You're both idiots, feeling like crap over someone else's mess. Bring him something sweet and tell him you're sorry and everything'll be good. I promise.”
“He's not mad at me?” I asked, feeling exactly like the idiot West said I was.
J.T. was the one who answered. “Why don't you go ask him yourself?”
“Good idea,” West agreed. “Head over to The Inn and see Royal. Don't talk to your grandmother or your parents until I have your dad in custody, okay?”
“I won't, I swear.”
Now that I'd unloaded the whole mess on West, I was more than happy to wash my hands of it. All I wanted to do now was make things right with Royal. I hated the way I'd left him in the parking lot earlier. I should have told him everything right away. It seemed like he'd figured it out mostly, but I owed him the truth.
West let himself out, reminding us to stay off the phone and lie low. My dad was probably at Grams' house finishing the dinner she'd cooked for him.
“We have just enough time while that pie cools to get you fixed up,” J.T. said. “What did you do, stand under the waterfall?”
My hair was beyond saving. Too much mist from the waterfall and not enough product. Who was I kidding? There wasn't enough product in the universe to prevent a frizz explosion when I sat behind the waterfall. Usually, I wore a hat or wrapped it up, but today I hadn't been thinking. J.T. to the rescue.
I wasn't wasting the time it would take to wash my hair and start from scratch, so J.T. pulled it back from my face, turning the poof of frizz into a rounded bun. I swear if he weren't in culinary school he would have made an awesome hair-stylist.
A quick wash of my face, new makeup, and a sundress repaired most of the damage. My eyes were still a little puffy from all the crying I'd done in the past few days, but at least I no longer looked like I'd been dragged out from under a wet rock.
Almost ready, I pulled out my phone to text Royal. I was saving my apology for in-person, but I wanted to make sure he was still there.
I'm coming over to return your car and bring you a present.
Are you in your office?
He answered almost immediately.
I'm here. Are you leaving now?
I'll be there in a few minutes. See you soon.
See you soon.
That was the idea, but soon turned out to be a lot longer than I'd planned. All we had to do was drive to The Inn and walk inside. What could possibly go wrong?
As it turned out, everything.
Everything could go wrong. And everything did.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Daisy
J.T. blocked me at the bottom of the steps and held out his hand. “You're way too upset to drive. Give me the keys.”
J.T. was always good at making me laugh. “Right. You know I'm fine to drive, you just want to get behind the wheel of Royal's car.”
“Guilty. Now hand over the keys. You know he wouldn't mind.”
I dropped the keys into his outstretched palm and opened the passenger door, carefully setting the pie at my feet. Royal definitely wouldn't mind if J.T. drove his car, and I didn't care. It was a cool car, no doubt, but I'd had my turn and hopefully would again. All I could think about was getting to Royal.
I was halfway in the passenger seat when something thumped hard on the roof of the car, followed by a grunt.
“J.T.?”
We needed to get better lighting in the alley behind the bakery. All I could see was shadows, two of them, swaying and dipping in and out of the faint light from Main Street. Another grunt, this one of pain.
I shot out of the seat, stumbling a little in my sandals as I rounded the back of the car to get to J.T. He was struggling with someone the same height as him but more slender. Dark hair, pale face, and a flash of metal.
Vanessa, and she had a knife.
What the hell? Why would she go after J.T.?
I shifted my weight, looking for an opening, for any way to get her off J.T. With that knife flashing and the two of them in a combative dance, I couldn't get close. Physically, I was outmatched, but I had my voice and I had a phone. Somewhere.