“What…were you two doing?” I refuse to assume like he did with me. For all I know it’s completely innocent. And I didn’t come here to fight. We’ve done enough of that in the past couple of days.
“Nothing,” he murmurs. “She was just—nothing.”
I zero in on the streak of lipstick on his face. This should be my sign. My proof. But there’s still a part of me that wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. The Roscoe I know wouldn’t do that. Would he? I look back up at his hooded eyes and my heart sinks. This is the Roscoe I know. The guy I’ve always known. He doesn’t do relationships and, even when he does, he cheats.
“Ross…” This is probably the worst time to ask, but I have to know where we stand. I shake my head. This is the best time to ask. For two months, I’ve been sleeping with this guy, living in his house, sleeping in his bed, like I belong to him. The question is, do I? And if I do, does he belong to me? “I think…we should talk about—”
“My man!” Bryce bursts through the office door, patting Roscoe on the back. “There you are. I went back stage and you were gone. That was—you were—wow! You know you just made me a shit-load of money, right?” He’s got a hand on either one of Roscoe’s shoulders and he shakes him wildly. “Please! Tell me you’ll be back on Wednesday night. Promise me, kid. Hell, you can come back any night and that stage is yours.” He frowns. “Except for Monday. That’s open mic. But Tuesday to Sunday.” He grins. “Ross Black Days. I can see it now. I’m gonna get my sister to do up one of those banners. We can hang it out front.” Bryce lets out a loud laugh and Roscoe joins in. “I’m glad you’re back buddy. I mean despite everything. This is going to be good. I can feel it.”
Roscoe’s completely taken with Bryce’s praise. As he’s led out the door and back down the hallway toward the crowd, I don’t bother to follow. Instead, I head in the opposite direction. Out the door and back home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ross
She looks peaceful lying there without me, and hell if it makes me an asshole, but I don’t like it. I don’t want her to ever be okay without me. I half expected her to go ballistic on me when I walked through the door. I wanted her to slap me or call me an asshole. Something. I sure as hell didn’t expect this.
Back at the bar, she barely blinked. Dressed in that damn skirt and those shoes she bought with that idiot’s money. It was like she didn’t even care I’d been gone for a full day. She didn’t even ask where I’d been.
I stare down at her now and smile, as I bend forward and gently remove the shoes from her feet before chucking them in the garbage can by the door. She wasn’t happy to see Maya though, which has to mean something. It struck a nerve. Which can only mean she’s not nearly as cool with my twenty-four hour disappearance as she’s letting on.
I sigh as gently I work the skirt over her hips. I send it hurling across the room with the rest of the trash and sit down on the bed next to her.
I wasn’t trying to mess with her. Not at first. I really did just need to get away. But it wasn’t until tonight, when she stood there, acting like everything was cool, that I realized none of it is. Not until I get what I need. Even though I barely know what that is right now. Whatever it is, it has to do with her. I want her here, while I figure things out. I need her here. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to make that happen. Luke wants me to just let her go. Part of me thinks it would be easier. But another part knows it would kill me.
There are other ways to give Luke what he wants. Other ways to ensure we get as much access to those kids as we deserve and I intend on exploring those options. But for now, I just want to enjoy this part of my life. The part that makes everything else fade away.
I strip out of my jeans and t-shirt and crawl into bed, snuggling up behind her. The urge to wake her is strong, making itself more potent in some areas than others. But the clock reads 3:48. I value my ability to see out of both eyes and my good looks even better. So instead, I press my body as close to hers as possible. One arm underneath her, the other one around her waist, both legs hooked with hers and my face buried in her neck. When she stirs in her sleep, pushing her ass backwards to fit perfectly with me, I groan in frustration. It’s not even close to what I need right now. But it’ll have to do.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sheila
A hand on either shoulder, she leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. Dead center.
“I’ll miss you.”
I nod. Me too. I should say it out loud but I can’t find my voice.
Her expression changes suddenly. The new one familiar—narrowed, bright, blue eyes, that wrinkled cute little nose I’ve always coveted and her perfect mouth twisted to the side like she’s doing her best to avoid saying something she’ll regret. She’s in my face too, which means whatever’s simmering is about to become a full-blown boil.
“What?” I ask, easing backwards.
“Just because I’m not there to cover for your ass doesn’t mean you have to act like one.” Her tone is gentle, despite obvious annoyance.
“I’m not…I’m just…what are you—?”
“Go home, Sheils. Now’s not the time to be stubborn.” She places a hand on my cheek and smiles a watery smile. “It might not seem like it right now, but they need you.”
“I’m sure they’re glad I’m gone.”
She shakes her head. “I know you had my back and for a time there I had yours. It’s your turn again, sis. Trust me, they need you.”
I wake up gasping for breath. For several seconds, I lie here staring up at the ceiling, my chest pinching, my head pounding. Roscoe’s arm is draped across my chest, his leg pinning me down. I slowly wriggle from beneath him and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
I close my eyes and, as the memory of my dream starts drifting away, sinking beneath the surface, I do my best to hold on.
“Shannon.” Her name catches in my throat. And before I can even think to try and stop them the tears come, forcing their way from beneath squeezed lids.
I cross my arms over my stomach, clutching as tight as I can. Trying hard not to let myself fall apart. I have to stop falling apart.
For weeks, I’ve struggled to remember what her voice sounded like. Her laugh. It’s only been in the past few days that I’ve started to lose the little things. Like how she looks when she’s mad.
If she were here now, she’d be mad as hell. They need you.
What about what I need? Who’s going to take care of me? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Two years ago, I was in high school, imagining this fantastic life I was going to live with my sister when it was all over. We had plans. Dreams. Things were good. They were really good. And then, just like that, everything changed. I got too eager. I ran off. I left her behind. I nearly destroyed our relationship. And now she’s…
I’m being selfish by ignoring her wishes. But I’m also scared. The question is am I brave enough to trade one in for the other?
The clock on the nightstand says 7:00. I got home in record time last night and was asleep before Roscoe probably even gave me a second thought. I glance back at him now, my heart sinking further into my stomach, twisting my insides into a complicated knot. He won’t be awake for hours. Which gives me the perfect opportunity to do what I should have weeks ago.
Go home and face the music. As loud and unpleasant as it may be.
Dave smiles so sweetly at me, as I ease into the passenger’s seat, that I’m suddenly at peace with every decision I’ve made in the past hour. Leaving Roscoe is the right thing to do. Explaining it all away with an eight-word note was necessary in order to ensure things go as smoothly as possible. And going home to face my parents…well, like I told Roscoe, it’s about time.
We have some important decisions to make—ones that will completely change my life. And considering everything Shannon sacrificed for me when she was alive, I owe her that much.
I buckle my seatbelt and lean my head back, closing my eyes to the glittering
sun. The brightness behind my lids dims and when I open them the blinder is down and Dave is staring hard at me, his lips pressed together and bleeding white.
“Does this mean…?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Let’s just see what happens, okay?”
He nods. “Okay.” He hands me a cup of coffee and I take it gratefully, doing my best to avoid his gaze.
“You bought me coffee?”
“Figured you’d need it. Besides, it’s more of a peace offering.” I raise an eyebrow giving him my full attention now. “Fair warning,” he says. “Your grandmother is in town.”
And just like that I’m rethinking everything.
“That’s fair warning?” I nearly drop the hot liquid in my lap. “Do you even know what that means? Fair warning would have been to tell me this before you got here. Before I jumped into the car. Are you kidding, Dave?” I stare at him, open-mouthed. Then I shake my head, gripping the door handle and contemplating my next move.
Roscoe won’t be up yet. I still have time to dispose of the note before he sees it. Hell, I could even crawl right back in bed next to him and he wouldn’t know I was ever gone. That’s my only move. Going back to home? Yeah right. At this point, I should avoid Palouse at all costs.
“Relax, I know your grandmother’s difficult but trust me on this. I only told you so you’d be prepared, not to freak you out. She’s different now.”
I swivel in my seat, my eyes still on the front door. “Different how?”
“The same way you’re different. The same way we all are. What happened to Shannon changed everything. It changed everyone.”
“How would you know?” I cast a challenging gaze his way.
“What do you mean?”
“No offense, Dave. Our moms may be best friends but you’re not exactly a part of the family. I mean aside from following Dad around like a puppy when we were little and the crush you had on us girls and the time you spent with my sister, you haven’t been around the family long enough to know how things work.”
Dave laughs. “The crush I had?”
My cheeks heat up and I turn to look back out the window. “Whatever. You think you know about the Carlsons but you don’t. You don’t know how we react to disappointment. You don’t know how not meeting expectations is like a betrayal. Grandma may seem like she’s changed, but she hasn’t.”
He rests a hand on mine and squeezes it, drawing my gaze back to his. “You’ve been gone a while, Sheila. Some things might surprise you. And maybe I should have told you before, but I didn’t see the point in messing up a good thing. We’ve been trying to get you home for weeks. When you called this morning and said you were ready, I just went with it. I’m sorry. I get it okay. I’ve met Anne Carlson.” He sighs. “And maybe you’re right, but I still think this is a good thing. It’s a conversation that needs to be had. You and I both know this is bigger than an inevitable confrontation with your grandmother. Much bigger.”
My stomach bottoms out and I bite my lip. I’m suddenly not even sure I can do this. I haven’t even decided how to proceed. I haven’t even read that damn letter.
“Hey,” he nudges me. “If you want me to come in with you, I will. I’ll hold your hand. I’ll help you through all of it. Just do it for her. Okay? Then we can all move on.”
A sudden wave of nausea runs through me, but I nod my head in agreement anyway. He’s right. She’d want me to face Grandma to get to what really matters. Even though I know in my bones I’ll regret it, I reach over, buckle my seatbelt and sit back, doing my best to enjoy the ride.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ross
It’s time for me to go.
Love, Sheila
I don’t know what’s worse, that she’s gone, that it’s so damn vague or that she didn’t even bother to address me. That note could have been written for anyone. But obviously it’s for me. Left on my pillow. On my bed.
But what the hell does it even mean? By ‘gone’ I assume she means home. But for how long? For good? Is that it? One petty argument and she takes off?
I scoff. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s just like Sheila. The first week on tour she was ready to bail. I practically had to beg her stay. Provided I did some pretty messed up things, but all it took was a conversation and we were back on track.
Like we could be right now. But instead she leaves.
Only this wasn’t just one stupid fight. It was one of many. And it wasn’t petty at all.
I tilt my head beneath the stream of hot water, allowing it to beat the tension in the back of my neck away. As usual, I drank too much, but for the first time I actually regret it. Because now I have to spend what’s left of this godforsaken day piecing the events of last night together in my muddled brain.
She was at the show. I saw her. She was standing in her usual spot and I kept thinking about how happy I was that she was there. I was nervous as hell and I just wanted to get the set over with so we could come home and figure things out. I shouldn’t have let Maya buy me all those drinks, but I was just so damn…
Maya.
Fighting the urge to use my fist, I smack my palm against the tiles. What the fuck did she do? What did I do?
Then there was that Berklee dude. Did that really happen? Did I really get offered a job? To teach at Berklee? I laugh. There’s no fucking way. I’m college drop out. A fucking has-been.
Allowing the water to stream over my face, I do my best to recall the conversation. But I can’t. I spent the entire afternoon with my ex, drinking like an idiot and complaining about my life. I was too drunk. I don’t remember anything.
I shut off the faucet and reach for my towel wondering what the hell I could have said or done to make Sheila leave. That’s when I hear the doorbell.
I consider ignoring it, and going back to my room to sleep the rest of this headache away, when a thought occurs to me. I locked the door.
And she left her key.
Tying the towel around my waist, I walk toward the stairs, as casually as I can.
Maybe I should get dressed first. I don’t want to look too eager. But aren’t I? And if I take the time to bother with a pair of pants, she might change her mind and leave again.
Sucking in a deep breath, I continue toward the stairs and catch a glimpse of long, dark hair in the side window.
I smile, relief flooding through me. But when I open the door, it quickly turns to regret as I regard the person standing on the stoop.
“What do you want, Maya?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sheila
I’ve never been good with babies. I’ve never babysat, volunteered at the church nursery or even stopped in the street just to look at one. And I’ve only held this one a couple of times. If you can call this ‘holding’. My nephew is so wiggly in my lap, I have to put him down and I quickly realize why. The second his hands and knees hit the floor he crawls as fast as he can in Dave’s direction.
“He’s so big,” I say, laughing when Dave raises him up high in the air and he squeals.
With his dark head of shaggy hair and eyes that mirror his father, he’s the prefect mix of Luke and Shannon. It’s almost hard to look at him.
Mom eases into the sofa next to me and drapes an arm around my shoulders. “We missed you,” she whispers in my ear. “How’ve you been, sweetie?”
I nod. “I’m okay.” I catch Dave’s eye and he offers an encouraging wink. “How are you guys?”
“Better.” Mom squeezes my arm. “Now that you’re here.”
“I’m…sorry I’ve been gone so long. I…I...”
“I know, sweetie. It’s really good to have you home. Grandma’s staying in the guest room but your bed is still there and all your things.”
“My bed?” I’m pretty sure the horror is showing on my face because Dave puts Ray down and crosses the room to stand in front of me.
Just like he promised, he hasn’t left. He’s been here all day acting as a buffer. Although, for whatever ins
ane reason, I don’t seem to need one. Everything is perfectly normal. And the dreaded conversation hasn’t even come up. No one’s said a thing. They’re all just acting like I’ve been here all along. Like we’re not about to sit down and discuss our impending futures.
Mom greeted me with a kiss. Dad with a bear hug before he took off to spend the day with my niece at the hospital. And Grandma. Well, I guess she’s the one who’s making things not-so-normal, though not necessarily in a bad way. She hasn’t said one insulting thing to Mom and she actually complimented my outfit. Which I know, coming from a woman who prefers ankle-length skirts and culottes over any other article of clothing, is a bold-faced lie.
She’s sitting over at the dining room table now, sipping her tea and observing. And I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For a moment there, I wondered if it ever would. I guess not because Mom just kicked me with it instead.
She actually expects me to sleep in my room?
“Are you okay, honey?”
“Uh, you didn’t have anything to do back in the city did you?” Dave asks.
I glance up at him, unsure of how to respond to either of them. Even though the answer to both questions is a definitive ‘yes’. Yes, there is something wrong with the fact that you want me to sleep in the room I used share with my dead sister and absolutely there’s something I need to do back in the city. Hide. From all of this. Just like I have been for weeks.
But I find myself shaking my head instead and telling my own outright lie. “No,” I say, smiling over at Mom. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Dinner will be done in about an hour then you can go get some rest.”
“No, thanks,” I say. Grabbing my bag, I head down the hallway and toward my old room. I might as well get used to. “I’m not hungry.”
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