She was tired. Exhausted. Carrying the duffel down to her old room, she dropped it on the floor when she entered the door. The room was mostly bare, a few squares of carpet darker than the others spotlighting where her bed, dresser, and desk had stood. Now a lone hanger on the floor welcomed her back.
Lila left the duffel and crossed the hall to the other bedroom. In the years after her mother's death, she'd considered turning the room into a guest room but hadn't had the heart to clear out her mother's belongings. Besides, she'd never had any guests.
Kicking off her shoes, Lila stepped out of her jeans and pulled off her bra. Then she tugged back the covers on her mother's bed and slid inside in only her t-shirt and panties. Pressing her face into the pillow she inhaled heavily, wondering how her mother's scent could still linger after so many years.
The smell set off a whole new batch of tears. "Oh, Mom," she whispered, "I really blew it this time."
Sobs racked her body as she confessed it all in her mother's room, hoping her mom was hearing her somewhere in the spirit realm. The way she'd been so willingly seduced by the handsome Alex Drake. How she'd had sex with him even though she'd known he was engaged to another woman. The fact that they'd been filmed, and were now being blasted all over gossip sites.
Since she was blabbering out her present follies, she saw no reason to stop there. Lila kept going, telling the empty room about the horrors of her high school liaisons, how Damien had introduced her to passion before embarrassing her before his friends. She'd never opened up to her mother about those events, had in fact tried very hard to keep them a secret. But she couldn't hold them in now.
The week after the Homecoming humiliation, Lila had refused to return to school. At first she'd played sick, telling her mother she didn't feel well and hiding out in her bed most of the day. By the middle of the week, her mother had insisted that she go to the doctor. Lila had demurred, saying she was feeling better and begging her mother to let the issue go. Unfortunately, something else had happened that made them both forget all about Lila's faux illness.
Wednesday night of that week, her mother had gotten a call. Lila watched as her mother's face had grown pale, her voice weak. "Thank you," she'd said, then hung up the phone and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table.
"What is it, Mom?" Lila asked, sliding into the chair across from her. Something serious, that was obvious.
"That was the specialist's office calling." Her mother took a deep breath, her eyes downcast. "They got the test results in. It's cancer."
Lila's stomach had dropped, the world spinning out of control around her. "What?"
Her mother's brown eyes met her own. "That's why I've been feeling so run down, so tired. I have cancer."
There were more tests to be run, a more concrete diagnosis to be developed before a treatment plan could be put into effect. Suddenly the stupid shit at school didn't matter anymore to Lila. All that mattered was making her mother well again.
The next morning, Lila had called up the school office. She explained to the principal about her mother's condition and her own desire to stay home and help out. Since she was a senior in good standing, with only a few more credits needed to graduate, the principal worked with her putting together an arrangement that would allow Lila to graduate early after completing her coursework from home.
She was glad that she could focus on the only family she had. And that she wouldn't have to go back and face the taunts she knew would be waiting for her. But escaping the fallout from the bullshit with Damien was nothing compared with the freedom she'd have to take care of her mom. And it turned out she'd needed it.
That first year had been hell. Her mother had grown weaker while she suffered through test after test, then began chemotherapy. They'd celebrated Lila's early graduation with a special dinner at a restaurant owned by her mother's friend. Lila's mom didn't eat even half of the food set before her. The mood was somber, and fear had squeezed her heart at the thought of losing her mother, perhaps sooner than either had thought possible.
Instead, Lila's mom had lingered. She'd responded to chemotherapy and that summer they'd gone wig shopping, finding a nice brunette piece to cover her now bald head. But before long she'd weakened again, so much so that she'd had to cut back on her hours at the bakery. Luckily Old Man Withers had kept her on so that she didn't lose her health insurance. Still, the bills were piling up.
Another stroke of luck had come in the form of Delia Claire, the restaurant owner and her mother's friend. Delia had given Lila a position in her kitchen, and there Lila's love of cooking had grown by leaps and bounds. It had also enabled her mother and her to keep their heads above water. They reached a kind of stasis, keeping things afloat as her mother battled her illness.
It had come in cycles. She'd grow weaker, then the chemo would start to help, and her mother would get back some strength, only to begin to fade again after a few months. The cancer slowly consumed her, taking years to finally pull all of her strength from her until she was a shell of her former self.
Her mother had always been a large woman, but as the months passed, she dwindled, losing weight, her sallow skin hanging in loose folds. She'd always kept her spirit, refusing to give in to the disease, her optimism assuring herself and others that she'd beat the C-word and be back on the mend in no time. But as the years slid by, her optimism had slowly faded as her pain increased.
Lila knew the end was near when they were forced to once again up her mother's pain medication. She could no longer make it in for her few shifts at the bakery, and spent most of her day in bed, her mind in a drug-clouded daze. It hurt to look at her, to know that she was dying and that there wasn't a damn thing Lila could do to help her.
Lila often awoke in the night to her mother's moans of pain and would rush to her bedside to give her more medication. One night it was particularly bad, and her mother lay there, her head thrashing back and forth, eyes pressed tightly closed, her mouth slack, a constant low moan coming from it. When the meds took effect and she could finally open her eyes, she pinned Lila with her gaze.
"It'll be soon," she wheezed.
"No," Lila cried, squeezing her hand.
"I'm sorry," her mother replied, twin tears squeezing out of her eyes and rolling down her chalk-white cheeks. Lila grabbed a tissue and wiped at her mother's face, even as that face blurred before her own tear-stained eyes.
"Don't," Lila whispered. "Don't leave me alone."
Her mother looked at her, her watery brown eyes serious. "You're a strong young woman. You'll carry on without me."
"I don't want to." She didn't. Her mother was her rock. The only thing she could depend on in this world. She barely remembered her father, who'd left them when Lila was a small girl. Her grandparents had been dead before she was born. All she had was her mother, and soon she wouldn't even have her.
"I don't want to leave you, baby." Her mother's voice cracked, and it made Lila's heart contract painfully in her chest. "But I don't have a choice. I just want you to know that you will go on, life will go on, and things will get better."
Lila hadn't been able to hold back the sobs at her mother's words. She squeezed her hand tightly, willing her to hang on, willing the cancer to fuck off and give her back her mother.
"Lila, I know this is hard. But I'm certain you will make me proud. You've got so much to give the world, so much to show them."
Lila shook her head. What did she have to give? To show?
"Yes, you do. You can do anything you put your mind to."
Could she? Right then it didn't feel like it.
Lila's mother gave her a smile. "Promise me that you're going to dream big, and live for those dreams."
Lila frowned. She knew how dreams could cripple a person. Just look at what had happened with Damien George. From high school dream to Homecoming nightmare.
Lila's mother tightened her grip on her hand. "This is important. I know I haven't been much of an example, but that's why it's s
o essential that you listen to me now."
Her mother took a deep breath, her eyes taking on a wistful quality. "I met your father when I was in high school. We got married the summer after graduation. You came along that next year. And I've loved you ever since."
Lila swallowed, wondering if her mother could feel her hand shaking.
"I had dreams, like any other little girl, dreams of getting married and having a family. And I thought those dreams had come true with your father. But he didn't share those dreams with me. He told me how he felt smothered, how he couldn't deal with a nagging wife and a crying baby. And he walked out on me when you were two."
Lila held her breath. Her mother had never really talked about the split from her father. Occasionally Lila would ask where her daddy was, when other little children would point out her lack, but her mother had always just smiled and said that her daddy loved her but couldn't live with them. And now she was finally finding out why.
Her mother looked away from her and blinked back her tears. "It tore me apart, your father leaving me. Leaving us. I felt like my dream was dead. Like I'd never have the chance again. But I was wrong."
Her brown eyes were back, staring into Lila's own. "I had you, and you were my family. I loved you and cherished you. I still do. I always will."
"Oh, Mom," Lila said, stroking wisps of hair back from her face.
"But I've realized lately that I gave up on my girlhood dream of a loving husband and happy family. After your father left, I never tried to get that back. I could have dated, could have found another man to love and to love me. But I never even tried."
"Mom, you don't have to--"
"I do." Her mother's voice was firm. Stronger than it had been in days. "I gave up when I shouldn't have. And I don't want you to do that. You're young, you're beautiful, and you're talented. Dream big, and don't be afraid to follow those dreams wherever they might lead."
"I will," Lila had promised. But she hadn't understood the full impact of those words until now, years later.
Her mother had died a few weeks later. Lila had been crushed. She was left alone, to plan the funeral, to deal with her mother's will and insurance policy and medical bills.
The funeral was heartbreaking. Lila hoped she would never have to experience another one. She'd sobbed as her mother's friends had come, one after the other, to the podium and recounted their stories and impressions of her mother. It was the longest, most painful hour of her young life.
Then she'd stood in the receiving line as person after person had come up to her, shaken her hand, and told her what an impact her mother had had on their lives. She'd caught sight of a big man with dark hair sneaking out a side door of the church. He looked vaguely familiar. When he'd looked back and their eyes had met, she realized that he had the same hazel eyes that she did.
That's when she realized it was her father. And he hadn't even bothered to come shake her hand.
The flash of anger she felt at the memory allowed Lila to get a grip on her feelings. She lay in her mother's bed, watching the shadows on the walls as they moved in the light of passing cars. Had her father ever loved her mother? Or had he been using her? Was she convenient, someone that could be put aside when things got too overwhelming?
Lila couldn't ignore the parallel in her own life. She'd allowed men to use her then discard her, and she realized now how her mother must have felt. Abandoned. Second-rate. Worthless.
The mess she'd made with Damien had put her in the same position as her mother had been. Too afraid to get out and try again.
Lila knew she was a passionate woman. She'd touched herself, recognizing the pleasure she aroused and enjoying it. But she kept her passion to herself.
Those feelings of desire hadn't stopped over the years, even if she hadn't shared herself with someone else. Her sex drive had remained healthy, prompting her to keep herself shaven because she liked the sensation. Even if no one else was likely to see or feel it. But her interlude with Alexander Drake had made her realize that her hand was no substitute for real intimacy.
Still, she'd given it another chance, and it had ended just as badly, no worse, than before. No wonder her mother had been so afraid to try again. There were plenty of mistakes just waiting to be made, mistakes out there with perfect masculine bodies and stunning gray eyes. Mistakes that wouldn't leave your mind long after their touch had left your body.
Lila turned over her mother's words in her mind again. Dream big, and don't be afraid to follow those dreams wherever they might lead. Well, her dream of Alex Drake had led to a dead end. But that's all it could have been, a dream. He'd been engaged to another woman the entire time.
Talk about unavailable.
She blew out a huge breath and turned onto her side, wishing she could drive the relentless thoughts from her mind. Maybe this was how she was wired, seeking out unavailable men, trying subconsciously to find a replacement for her father and then being surprised when she ended up alone.
That sucked.
It was hours before Lila reached the point of exhaustion that enabled her to fall to sleep. Even then, her dreams haunted her. A life spent alone, with no dreams left to cling to.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex Drake stared at his laptop but saw nothing. He was in a foul mood, had been since the night of the networking event. The night Lila had told him it was over between them. He hadn't expected those words to hurt so badly. Hadn't expected the hurt to last. But now, a week after that night, her words made him feel as bad as when she'd said them, tears sparkling in her beautiful hazel eyes.
Since ending things with Lila, his heart had felt like a stone in his chest. It was a thousand times worse than breaking up with Alana. And that was telling. All he'd felt after ending his engagement with Alana was relief. Relief and rage.
In true woman scorned fashion, Alana had leaked a photo from the video of him and Lila making love. Making love? he asked himself. Was that what it was? At the time it had felt like fucking. Intense, powerful fucking. But now he wondered.
Alex had sicked his team of lawyers on his ex so fast, he hoped her well-coiffed head was spinning. His only gratitude had been at her greed, since she'd been holding out on the full video until it was paid for by the highest bidder. And he'd caught her before she'd been able to sell.
Alana had finally agreed to destroy the video and all of its copies, after he consented to allow her to keep the engagement ring, and they reached an "amicable settlement," as the lawyers had phrased it. He'd paid through the nose to keep her silence and to protect Lila. But it seemed the damage was already done.
Alex had hurried to Lila's house after he'd made sure that the video would never come back to haunt them. He'd wanted to apologize, to explain how awful he felt, to tell her that he'd broken off things with Alana.
He was halfway to telling her he'd do anything to get her back.
But Lila's house was empty.
Alex had sat in his car, staring at the dark house and the Gourmet on the Go sign, and had considered the issue. Lila had obviously fled, and he couldn't blame her. A few of the websites had mentioned her by name, as well as the name of her business. He'd promised expensive lawsuits to any site that didn't immediately take the photo down and bury the story. A few threats and several costly payouts later, and no trace remained of their illicit tryst. But the public's memory was not so easily wiped.
A few days after the story had broken, he'd attended a business function. The room was filled with his associates, men as hungry for power and money as he himself had been. And he couldn't miss the smirks some of these men were throwing his way. He caught a few knowing nods, saw a few whispers in ears and chuckles.
Alex was in a position of wealth and power, and even though he doubted that his actions would affect his business interests in any meaningful way, it was clear that they had definitely had an impact on his image.
Here was what he'd always feared. Being exposed before his peers, shown to be an ignorant,
misguided peasant, ruled by his hillbilly emotions. He'd stepped out of line, had let his private affairs become grist for the mill of media attention, and he would suffer.
Still, the suffering he felt at the looks from his colleagues in no way approached the massive pain in his chest at the thought of losing Lila. And yet, as he sat in his car, watching the sun set behind the roof of her little house, he came to a realization.
As cool as his associates could be to him, they would be ten times crueler to his cupcake. Outsiders were to be scorned, especially ones with no cache of authority nor deep pockets. If he did track her down, find her, go to her, beg her to come back to him, they could expect an even bigger reaction from the ones he'd tried so hard to fit in with.
The ones he'd considered marrying a backstabbing supermodel to impress.
He couldn't expose Lila to that kind of pain. They'd consider her lower class, the hired help. Alex would be mocked, as if he'd had an affair with the maid or sired a child with the nanny. They would never let her fit in, regardless of his status. Would they?
Now he sat in his office and stared at the computer screen, wishing he could get her out of his mind. Wishing he could go back to before he'd met her, when things had been going along according to plan.
No, he told himself. Not true. If he could go back, he'd never have found out what a bitch Alana was until it was too late.
Even worse, he'd never have gotten to know Lila. Would have never held her in his arms. Never kissed her lips. Never been inside of her blazing heat. No, he wouldn't trade the memories of her for anything, not a pile of money, not the respect of his peers. Nothing.
His intercom buzzed, but before he could press the button, his office door swung open. And for the first time in days, a smile lit his face.
Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) Page 66