Conceal

by Juliana Stone

  She tossed her spoon onto the table. “You know, for the longest time I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of me. In fact, the lower their opinion, the better I felt. It was like, if the bar was set so low I didn’t have so far to fall. And that’s the thing…I always fell.”

  Her eyes shot up. And there was all that business again.

  “This movie means that I have a chance to prove to myself that I can raise that bar and not be afraid. But I need to do it on my own and I need to do it without a distraction. Without screwing the guy who’s given me the chance. You know that right? We can’t be involved. We just can’t.”

  She was right. Fuck.

  He grinned, trying to lighten the situation. “Not even a straight up sex thing with no strings?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Not even that.” She paused for a moment, her fingers playing with the sugar bowl, pushing it back and forth. “Sex always screws things up and,” she leaned forward. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

  He nodded, his eyes on her mouth. That mouth.

  Holy. Hell. That mouth.

  “Sex without strings doesn’t exist.” She glanced away. “There’s always strings. It’s just that sometimes they’re invisible. You can’t see them, but they’re there, you know? And when it comes time to cut them, well, that’s when things get messy.”

  He hated that she was right.

  The waitress brought over their breakfast and refilled their coffees and they’d just dug in when Betty’s cell went off.

  She tugged it out of her bra, glanced at it and then tossed it on the table without answering. She’d just spread jam onto her toast when the cell went off again.

  “You going to get that?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  But as soon as she said the word, the phone buzzed again. This time she swore like a trucker and scooped up her cell.

  “What?” she snapped so loudly that a few folks a couple tables away glanced in their direction. She was obviously pissed off and Beau was curious to know who’d managed to accomplish that so early in the morning. Had to be family.

  “When did that happen?” Betty asked, biting her bottom lip as she pushed her plate of food away. “Shit.”

  Beau had a bad feeling. It seemed as if their nice little cocoon had cracked wide open.

  “I’m fine, Bobbi. How is she?” Betty exhaled and rubbed her fingers across her forehead, eyes closed as she listened to her sister. “Okay. Hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Is everything alright?” he asked hesitantly, when she ended the call.

  “No,” she said, her eyes flying to his. “No. We need to get back to New Waterford right away.”

  She was already sliding off the chair, tucking her cell back into her bra. “It’s Billie.” She ran fingers through her tangled hair, her face white and pinched. “She’s in the hospital. Something about the baby.”

  “Baby?” Beau grabbed his wallet and slapped some bills onto the table as he got up from his seat. “But the baby’s not…she’s not due for a few months, right?”

  Betty didn’t answer. She was already halfway to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  BETTY JO HATED HOSPITALS. The smell. The sterile colors. The hushed tones.

  The life and death.

  Years ago she’d been on a photo shoot in Belize and had cut her foot on coral. It had become infected and she’d ended up feverish and sick. Even then, she’d refused to go to the hospital—insisting a doctor could come to her. She was Betty Jo Barker, after all.

  It hadn’t been her ego talking though that’s what everyone assumed—hell, the story had made the papers in the US. Her therapist had told her it was because she associated hospitals with the death of her mother.

  She’d been five when Chantal Barker had succumbed to the cancer that had slowly taken her away from the girls. And their father had brought them to the hospital to say their goodbyes.

  It was something she still remembered, though the pictures had long faded. It was the smells. The sensations that stayed with her. The feelings of fear and utter hopelessness.

  It was ironic, really, that a place that saw so much death and suffering, also celebrated life.

  New Waterford wasn’t big enough to support its own hospital so Billie had been admitted to The General located in the next county over. By the time Betty got there, it was nearly ten in the morning, the sun was high in the sky, and Michigan was well on its way to another scorching summer day.

  Beau pulled the Harley up to the front entrance and let her off. She slid off the bike unsure how to proceed and offered him a small wave, like she was the Queen of England or something.

  A stupid wave.

  But what else was she supposed to do? Shove her tongue down his throat? She wasn’t used to this…this situation. In the past when she had sex with someone, she left before they woke up. It had always been her rule. Never sleep over.

  The only guy she ever slept with was Matt and that was because all they did was cuddle. It was about comfort not sex.

  “I’ll…I’ll call you later,” she said slowly as she slipped off her helmet and handed it to him.

  “I can come in with you. If you want.”

  “No,” Betty said quickly. “This is family shit and you’d only get in the way.” She gestured to the folks near the hospital entrance who were already gawking.

  Okay,” Beau replied. His large aviators covered his eyes and with his long blond hair poking out from under his helmet, the substantial stubble on his chin, he looked incredibly hot in a dangerous bad boy biker kind of way. “Keep me in the loop. I hope everyone stays healthy.”

  She nodded and then ran up the steps, ignoring the gasps from a few of the people milling around out front. One man near the entrance had his phone out and turned it toward her, as she moved past him and through the doors. No doubt pictures of her would hit the Internet before she’d even managed to find her sister.

  Betty caught a glimpse of herself in the glass door and winced. She looked as if she’d spent the night in Sin City and was doing the ultimate walk of shame. Her hair was a mess, her mouth swollen from all the sexin’ she’d had—not to mention the whisker burns on her face and most likely her thighs. Her clothes looked as if she was coming down from a twenty-four hour bender. Which, she supposed, in a way she was.

  “Whatever,” she muttered as she approached reception.

  The lady behind the computer glanced up and she caught the exact moment when she recognized Betty. She was older than Betty, say in her mid to late forties, with hair scraped off her head in a tight ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, wore puke green scrubs—which was ridiculous, the woman was in reception, she wasn’t a nurse—and the judgmental gleam in her eye told Betty everything.

  A slight sneer touched the corner of the woman’s mouth and her big brown eyes took their time moving over Betty from head to foot.

  Betty didn’t have time for this woman’s sanctimonious glare but there was something about her that pissed Betty off.

  She reached over the counter and grabbed a piece of paper from the woman’s stationary.

  “Your pen would be nice,” Betty said. When the woman handed it over, Betty quickly scribbled onto the paper and handed it back to the lady. She waited for the woman to read it and then smiled as if she was the proverbial cat who’d just caught the mouse.

  I had eight orgasms last night with Beau Simon. How was your night?

  Xoxo Betty Jo.

  “You want my picture too?” She asked sweetly.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks blushed a nice shade of red. It was called embarrassment, and if Betty had more time she’d be all over it, sticking the knife in and twisting it as far as she could.

  “What floor is maternity?” Betty asked, dropping any pretense of niceties.

  The woman flinched and cleared her throat. “Fifth.”

  Betty headed for the elevator. She hadn’t
bothered to text her sister and by the time she reached the fifth floor she was in battle mode because that’s what she did when she was cornered. And right now, Betty Jo felt as if she was stuck in the corner with no way out. She wasn’t sure how to feel or how to react.

  She was bitter. Angry. Hurt.

  And so fucking scared for her sister and the baby. She thought back to the night of the reception and how Billie had kept rubbing her stomach while Betty let go of everything—all the ugliness and pain inside her.

  Had she somehow triggered this?

  The elevator doors slid open and she strode out, spotting Shane within seconds, talking to anther man, Connor Forest, Logan’s brother. They stood in the lounge and Shane nodded at whatever Connor said, a cup of coffee in his hand. The set of Shane’s shoulders was tense and his clothes looked as rumpled and dirty as hers.

  He turned just as she took a step forward and Betty froze at the look on his face.

  “Is she…is the baby…”

  But she couldn’t get the words out—maybe because she didn’t want to hear the answer.

  Shane didn’t answer at first and when he did his voice was subdued. “Billie went into labor last night. They’re trying to stop it with injections and they’re giving the baby something to make his lungs stronger in case….” He sighed. “In case the drugs don’t work and Billie goes into labor.

  Betty’s eyes widened. “It’s a boy?”

  Shane nodded, with a tired smile. “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Connor interrupted. “I have to run and fill the folks in. They’re up at their cottage so I’ll give them a call.” Connor glanced at Betty, his eyes lingering on the state of her clothes, hair, and probably the whisker burns on her neck. “Nice of you to make it.”

  She was used to that condescending tone and though it shouldn’t bother her…it did.

  She said nothing as Connor headed toward the elevator.

  “He’s just tired,” Shane said gruffly.

  “I don’t really care what he is. Connor Forest means nothing to me.” Of course it was a lie, but Shane didn’t have to know that.

  He nodded down the hall to his right. “Bobbi’s in there with Logan. Room 504.”

  “Okay,” she said, tugging on the ends of her hair—as if that would somehow make a difference—before attempting to smooth out her shirt.

  “You look…”

  She glanced at Shane, hackles instantly up. “Like a whore?”

  “Jesus, why do you always do that?”

  “Do what?” She gave up trying to make herself look presentable.

  She didn’t like the way Shane studied her. His eyes saw too much.

  “I’ve been where you are, Betty. I know what it feels like to have the entire town think you’re no good. But don’t make it easy for them. You have to drop the attitude.”

  “And why would I do that?” Sometimes attitude was all that got her through the day.

  “Because it doesn’t fit you anymore. You’ve changed and if folks can’t see that, then they’re idiots. You look,” he shrugged as if he didn’t quite know what to say. “You look…light.”

  “Light,” she murmured and glanced down at her dirty clothes.

  “You know what I mean,” Shane said tossing his cup and then shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You look…almost happy.”

  Almost happy.

  Wow.

  She had no sarcastic comeback to those two words. Betty Jo and happy hadn’t been friends for a very, very, long time.

  She decided not to think about it and pointed down the hall. “I guess I’m going in. Are you coming?”

  “I’m just leaving. My dad and his wife are out of town so I’m looking after my kid sister. She’s with Gramps and your dad and I want to go check on them. Last I heard, Pia wasn’t exactly making a good impression. She peed on your father’s sofa.”

  “Your sister peed on Dad’s sofa?”

  “No.” Shane grinned. “Pia is a dog. My dog.”

  “Oh. Right. Except that little thing isn’t a dog.”

  “Don’t let her hear you say that or she’ll—“

  “Pee on my sofa?”

  Shane sighed. “Something like that.”

  Betty made her way down the hall and stopped just short of room 504. She could hear her sister Bobbi talking and then Logan’s voice—as well as one she didn’t recognize. A doctor maybe?

  They didn’t sound upset and before she lost her nerve, she pushed open the door and walked inside as if she had every right to be there. She wasn’t sure what her reception would be but she didn’t care. None of that mattered. Not now.

  Everyone went silent and four pairs of eyes stared back at her. A stranger near the end of the bed cleared his throat, and glanced back at the prone figure beneath the sheets.

  Billie.

  Her sister looked so pale and scared and small, her hands over her belly protectively, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Monitors beside her bed beeped, their green and red graphs meaning nothing to Betty.

  “We’ll do everything that we can to make sure your little boy arrives with a fighting chance. Don’t worry. This happens and we’re well prepared.”

  “Thank you,” Billie whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut as the doctor shook Logan’s hand and then nodded to Betty on his way out.

  His hand was on the door when Billie spoke. “Doctor Kelly?”

  The doctor glanced back.

  “His name is Abel.”

  The doctor nodded and then disappeared.

  Logan looked awful. His hair was all over the place, his features drawn with worry, but it was his eyes that freaked Betty out. They were filled with fear. As much as the man was trying to keep it together, his fear made Betty’s heart turn over.

  She crossed the room and Bobbi slid off the bed where she’d been sitting next to Billie. Bobbi enveloped Betty in a hug that took mere seconds to melt Betty’s shell.

  The two girls clung to each other and when her sister finally let Betty go, Logan was gone and Billie was staring up at her with such pain in her eyes that Betty’s throat clogged with tears.

  As angry as she’d been with her sister, never in a million years would she have wished this on anyone.

  “I’m so sorry,” Billie blurted, a fresh batch of tears tumbling out of her eyes as she wiped at her face with one hand, while slowly rubbing her stomach with the other.

  Betty shook her head, mouth trembling. Her throat was so tight she wasn’t sure she would be able to speak. There were still so many painful things inside her and maybe one day she’d get them out, but now wasn’t the time.

  “I don’t want to talk about that night, Billie. Not ever again.”

  “But I have to,” Billie replied, her voice catching on a sob. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What happened to you…I can’t stop it from going around and around in my head.” Billie grabbed Betty’s hands. “You have to forgive me, Betty. Please.”

  Betty stared down at her hand clasped between her sisters’. An IV was inserted into the back of one of Billie’s hands and they trembled as she squeezed onto Betty.

  “Please. I’m so sorry. I can’t sleep. I can’t think of anything other than that night. Oh God, I can’t believe that happened to you and you’re 100% right. It was my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  Betty’s demons stared back at her. The ghosts from that night echoed inside her head and for one second she thought she smelled stale cigarettes and engine oil.

  But then it was gone and she leaned down and kissed her sister’s forehead.

  “Do you hate me?” Billie whispered.

  “No,” Betty replied softly. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you, even when I thought I did.” She pulled back, smoothed away a piece of hair from Billie’s brow, and laid it all out there.

  “There will always be a part of me that blames you for what happened that night. I can’t help it, Billie. I’m just being honest. But all the other stuff…the drug
s, the booze, the men…the train wreck that I became…that’s all on me.”

  Betty wiped at her face and blew out a long, shuddering breath. “My therapist told me that for every action there is a reaction. He said that I would never be able to move on with my life until I learned to own my actions. Until I learned to accept the past. Until I learned to forgive. He said that’s what being a survivor means. I thought it was bullshit and considering I spent a small fortune with him, it was expensive bullshit.”

  She felt Bobbi’s hand on her shoulder and leaned into her sister as she gazed down into Billie’s tearstained face.

  “I know you never meant to hurt me. I’m pretty sure I knew it back then too, but everything was so raw, you know? I didn’t know how to handle it so I did what I always do. I internalized, pretended it never happened, and I ran away.”

  She stared at her sister for so long her vision blurred and she moved away from the bed, until she found herself near the window. She knew her sister wanted more. She wanted those three words.

  I forgive you.

  Betty just didn’t know if she could say them out loud.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  BEAU KNEW THE moment Betty slipped into the loft.

  It was just past four in the morning and though it was still dark outside, the breeze that came in through his open window was warm. Tucker was asleep on the sofa in the main room, but Beau was wide awake.

  He was wide awake because he’d been waiting for her. Because he’d known she would come. Shit. He was more nervous than when he’d played his first Major League game. More nervous than when he’d stepped onto the stage to accept his first Oscar.

  He was nervous as hell because Betty Jo Barker had managed to worm her way into his life and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had no idea how he was going to handle this and that scared him even more.

  Never had he met a woman like her. Complicated. Sexy. Damaged. The woman was frustrating as hell and she pressed every single button he owned. He wasn’t sure what everything meant—all these thoughts and emotions—but he knew that it was different from anything he’d experienced before. They had a connection and it was a connection that he wanted to explore.