Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  I tried to catch his eye. Why, I had no idea. What could he do? What could I do? Should I spill it? Pretend to faint? Grab Josh and run for the car?

  But Lawton never even looked in my direction.

  Slowly, I let my gaze drift to Loretta, who'd resumed her seat and sat with her hands steepled in front of her. Our eyes met, almost like she'd been watching for my reaction.

  I knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted me to freak out. I'd look like a total idiot, especially in front of a guest. This posed an even bigger question. Would she make Josh eat it in front of company?

  This shouldn’t be a big deal. I was blowing things out of proportion. It'd be fine. Maybe.

  Slowly, the dishes starting making their way around the table. I took a little of everything, even the cranberry sauce, which I'd never liked.

  So far, the gravy was just sitting there, uncirculated and unmentioned, except for Loretta's introductory remarks. But the longer it sat, the more tense the table became. I could feel it in the air – anticipation, dread, or in my dad's case, probably a mixture of both.

  And then, someone reached for it.

  Lawton.

  He picked up the gravy boat and surveyed its contents. "You said oyster gravy, right?" He took a big, whiff of it and grinned. "My favorite. Did you know, my great-grandma, she was a fishwife on the Detroit river, this was her specialty too?"

  I snuck a glance in Loretta's direction.

  She bared her teeth in a pale imitation of a smile. "How nice."

  Lawton shrugged. "Not really. She stunk like fish something awful. But man, she made the best gravy."

  As I watched, he ladled a scoop onto his mashed potatoes, then kept going, one ladle after another. Loretta hadn't made a whole lot, probably because only two people were expected to eat it. Soon, the entire gravy bowl was empty.

  Lawton's eyebrows furrowed. He looked toward Loretta. "This wasn't all of it, was it?"

  Loretta sat, her back straight and her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid it was."

  Lawton looked down at his plate. "Oh jeez. I'm sorry." He held out his plate toward Loretta. "You want mine?"

  "No," she said. "That won't be necessary. But thank you."

  "Oh well. More for me." And Lawton started digging in.

  I watched in absolute horror, and more than a little admiration, as he started to devour everything on his plate, gravy and all. In mid-bite, he looked up. "You guys are eating too, right?"

  Suddenly, it occurred to me how incredibly rude we were all being, watching him eat like some kind of zoo animal. I grabbed my fork and started eating too. Soon, Lauren Jane and Josh followed suit. Finally, with a shrug, my dad joined in.

  He looked at Lawton. "Boy, you sure have a good appetite," he said.

  "Can't help it," Lawton said. "I never eat this good at home." He offered up a conspiratorial grin. "And if the tabloids are true, I have two French chefs."

  According to the tabloids, he also had a pet leopard and a dick the size of Texas. Only half of that was true.

  And it wasn't the leopard.

  My dad dug into his plain mashed potatoes. "Two chefs, you say?" he boomed across the table. "Lucky me, all I need is Loretta."

  I slid my gaze in Loretta's direction. Her fork still rested by her plate. Slowly, I realized I wasn't the only one looking. We all were.

  "Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna eat anything?" She rolled her eyes. "You're not on another diet, are you?"

  "No," Loretta said through a clenched jaw. "I'm not on a diet."

  "Then dig in, honey," my dad said. "This is some darn good eatin'."

  I turned to stare at my dad. Was it Talk-Like-a-Cowboy Day or something? This wasn't the way he usually spoke, even in front of company. Usually, his grammar got better, not worse, even with his volume turned way up.

  Unless – was this for Lawton's benefit? Was this my dad's way of trying to sound tough? It might've made sense, except for one thing. Lawton wasn't a cowboy.

  Lawton grinned at me. He leaned back and rubbed his stomach. "It shore is, ma'am. Mighty thanks."

  I glanced at his plate. It was empty. Oh my God. He'd actually eaten all of it. The man deserved a medal. Or a stomach pump.

  Loretta pursed her lips and made no response.

  "Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna say 'you're welcome?'" Lauren Jane leaned her head close to Lawton's and said in a loud whisper. "Parents can be so rude."

  Loretta was looking daggers at her daughter. "So can daughters," she said.

  Lauren Jane smirked. "Well at least I say you're welcome when someone thanks me."

  Loretta cleared her throat. "Lawton, I apologize. Of course, you are quite welcome.'"

  "See?" my dad said. "Now honey-bun, was that so hard?" He pounded his fist on the table. "Now what do you say we rustle up some dessert?"

  I stood. "I'll get it."

  And then, remembering what happened last time, I froze in mid-motion. I looked toward Loretta. "Unless you'd rather?"

  She waved her hand loosely toward the sideboard. "Go ahead. Whatever." She reached up to rub her temples with both index fingers. "I give up."

  I retrieved the dessert dishes and started to serve everyone a slice of cheesecake and a piece of apple cobbler.

  Lawton waved the dessert away. "None for me, thanks."

  "You sure?" I said. Didn't he want something to wash away the taste of fish barf?

  He nodded and reached for his nearly full water glass. He downed it in one long, gulp. Concerned, I reached for the pitcher of ice water and refilled his glass. He looked up, meeting my gaze. "Thanks, dumplin'."

  I snickered and then caught myself, turning it into a poor imitation of throat-clearing.

  "Oh you," Lauren Jane said, giving Lawton another playful swat to his arm. "How come you never call me dumpling?"

  "Stop it!" Loretta said from her end of the table. "I don't know what's gotten in to all of you, but I've just about had it."

  My dad's brow wrinkled. "What's wrong, Sugar Cube?"

  Loretta glared at him. "I. Am. Not. Your. Sugar. Cube." And then, as if remembering herself, she gave him an stiff smile. "Alright?"

  My dad held up his hands in mock surrender. "Woah. Hear ya loud and clear, chief. No more sugar cubes." He looked around the table. "Got that, everyone?"

  "Oh for Heaven's sake," Loretta muttered, reaching for her wine glass.

  "So," Lauren Jane said to Lawton, "you and my sister are just friends, right?"

  Her sister?Just friends?

  Although Lauren Jane and I had been stepsisters for years, I barely knew her. Funny too. The more I knew her, the less I liked her.

  Across the table, Lawton grinned at me. "Chloe? You wanna answer that one?"

  I smiled back. "Not particularly."

  Lauren Jane's brow wrinkled. Again, she turned to Lawton. "So how'd you two meet? Was she your waitress or something?"

  Lawton leaned back in his chair. "Nope."

  My dad gave another slap to the table. "Don't be shy, son. Go on. Tell us how you two met."

  Lawton looked at me. "Chloe, you wanna tell the story?"

  My mouth opened, but no words came out. What story should I tell? The one where I saw Lawton kick two guys' asses in the parking lot where I worked? The time I showed up on his doorstep, soaked and looking for a dog that wasn't even my own? The time I fell half-naked over his fence?

  "Never mind," Lawton said, leaning forward. "Lemme tell it."

  Chapter 61

  I reached for my own wine glass and downed what little remained. I glanced at Josh. He was grinning from ear to ear, with both eyes on Lawton.

  Lawton looked around the table. "It was right after this underground fight in downtown Detroit. I'd just had the worst beating of my life. Total massacre. And I'm lying there in a pool of my own blood—"

  "Oh for the love of God," Loretta muttered.

  "Mom!" Lauren Jane said. "Don't interrupt." She gripped Lawton's arm. "It's just g
etting good." She leaned closer to Lawton. "Go on. We're all dying to hear the rest of it."

  "And I look up," Lawton said, "and I saw this girl, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

  Lauren Jane's brow wrinkled. "Who was she?"

  Josh spoke up. "It was Chloe. Wasn't it?"

  Lawton nodded. "Yup." He gave Josh a significant look. "And you know what?"

  "What?" Josh asked.

  "She probably saved my life."

  "I knew it!" Josh said.

  Loretta was frowning. "That's some story," she said.

  I tried to keep from laughing. It sure was. I'd never even been to one of Lawton's fights, not the real ones, anyway.

  Lawton held up a hand, palm out. "All true, I swear."

  Lauren Jane looked at him with narrowed eyes. "But you've never lost a fight in your life." She straightened in her seat and announced, "I know everything about him, probably even more than Chloe."

  I snorted. If she had to ask him about secret tattoos, she was way behind the curve on that one.

  "What's so funny?" she said.

  I blinked back at her. "Nothing." I gave a little pat to my throat. "Chicken bone."

  Her jaw clenched. "We had turkey."

  "Oh. Turkey bone then."

  She pushed back from her seat. "I'm bored."

  "Then maybe," Loretta said, "you can do the dishes."

  "But I don't wanna do the dishes," Lauren Jane said. "I know. Make Chloe do it." Lauren Jane turned to me. "I mean, you're used to it, right?"

  Lawton pushed back his chair too. "Sorry," he said, "but Chloe and I have to get going."

  Loretta frowned. "Why?"

  "Prior engagement," he said. "A thing at the hospital. You understand, right?"

  "Oh," she said. "Of course."

  My dad stood. "I guess we'll let you two cowpokes head on down the trail, then."

  "Oh for Heaven's sake, Dick," Loretta said. "Enough already!"

  My Dad's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

  Lawton looked at me. "Chloe? You ready?"

  I glanced at Josh. He was still smiling. I glanced at Loretta. She was glaring at my dad. I glanced at my dad. He was reaching for another piece of cobbler. I glanced at Lauren Jane. She was looking down at her lap. Texting?

  "Lauren Jane!" Loretta said. "For the last time, no phones at the table."

  Lauren Jane did a mimicking voice. "No phones at the table."

  "Young lady," Loretta said. "Are you mocking me?"

  I looked to Lawton. "Yup, I'm ready." I turned to Josh. "Wanna walk us out to the car?"

  At the table, the argument between Loretta and Lauren Jane was heating up by the second. I heard words like "old bag," "ungrateful snot," and something about a cut in someone's allowance.

  Walking toward the door, Lawton leaned in close to me. "She still gets an allowance?"

  I shrugged. "Maybe not for long."

  By the time we reached the front door, the argument had turned into a wrestling match, with Lauren Jane holding on tight to her phone while Loretta struggled to pry it out of her grip. Other than Josh, no one acknowledged our departure at all, which was just fine with me.

  Standing in the driveway, I gave Josh a goodbye hug. Then Lawton shook Josh's hand, man-to-man.

  "Best Thanksgiving, ever," Josh said.

  Surprisingly enough, I had to agree.

  When we pulled out of the driveway a minute later, I was surprised to find myself actually smiling. "You know what?" I said. "You're right. That was fun."

  "Told ya," he said as hit the accelerator.

  "Oh my God," I said. "That whole story about how we met—" I shook my head. "Where'd you come up with that?" I laughed. "I can't decide if I should kiss you or scold you for lying."

  "Baby," he said, "I'm a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right." I glanced out the window. We were practically flying. "Hey Lawton," I said. "We're not running late anymore. Wanna slow it down?"

  "Sorry. Can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," he said, "I figure we got about fifteen minutes to make it to the hospital."

  "You weren't kidding?" I said. "You really do have plans there? Oh jeez, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say something when I first called?"

  "Because when you called, I didn't know we'd be going."

  "Huh?" I stared over at him and felt myself tense. "Lawton," I said, with a voice far steadier than I felt. "What's wrong with your face?"

  He leaned over to glance in the rear-view mirror. "Huh. That's not good." Returning his gaze to the road ahead, he hit the brakes and skidded to a stop on the side of the road.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Still gripping the wheel, he looked down and shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs.

  "Are you alright?" I said.

  When I reached out for him, his hands slipped off the steering wheel. I looked down. The hands were so swollen his fingers looked sausages about to pop. I glanced again at his face. Gone were the lean lines and sharp angles. In its place was a swollen mass of facial features I barely recognized.

  "Oh my God," I said. "What's wrong?"

  He leaned his head against the back of his seat. Slowly, he turned to face me. His words were so garbled, I had a hard time understanding him. But I'm pretty sure what he said was, "Baby, can you drive a stick?"

  And the answer, which I was terrified to give, was no. I couldn't.

  Chapter 62

  "Damn it," I said, squeezing Lawton's hand, "you are such an idiot."

  "Please," the nurse said for like the tenth time, "no yelling at the patient."

  "I wasn't yelling," I said. "Much."

  With a look that told me she thought otherwise, she checked off something on his chart and returned the clipboard to the foot of the bed.

  We were in a private hospital room, surrounded by machines, IV stands, and a whole bunch of other stuff that did who-knows-what.

  Lawton was lying in the hospital bed, groggy, but more or less awake. How, I had no idea. They'd given him so many shots, and then there was the IV drip, and I'm pretty sure they pumped his stomach too, although for the sake of his dignity, I tried not to ask.

  If I'd just had my stomach pumped, I sure as heck wouldn’t want anyone asking about it.

  The nurse adjusted his IV drip and left the room, but not before giving me a final look of warning. I guess I couldn’t really blame her. Idiot was probably the nicest name I'd called him.

  Seriously, who eats a whole crapload of oysters, knowing damn well they're allergic to shellfish? Correction, deadly allergic to shellfish? Crazy people, that's who.

  Blinking hard, I looked down at Lawton. "You're looking a lot better," I said.

  He gave me a shaky grin. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," I said, "but you're still an idiot."

  "Not this time," he said. "So, you know how to drive a stick, huh?"

  "No. But I know how to call an ambulance." I bit my lip. "I think I forgot to lock your car."

  "Eh, no biggie."

  "And, uh, I might've left your keys in the ignition." I winced. "I'm sorry. Your car's probably long-gone by now."

  "Don't worry," he said. "It'll turn up. Or not."

  I scooted my chair closer and leaned down to press my face close to his. "You shouldn't have done that." My voice caught. "The doctor told me you could've died."

  "They always say that. Hasn't happened yet."

  "Seriously," I said. "Why on Earth would you do that? It was really stupid." I gave him a stern look. "And don't try to tell me you didn't know."

  "I would," he said, "but like I told you, I'm not a liar."

  "So why'd you do it?" I said.

  "Because," he said with a faint smile, "I couldn’t stand to see you hurt."

  "You think I like seeing you hurt?" I said.

  "This?" he said. "It's nothing."

  "Okay," I said. "Now you're a liar."

  Weakly, he shook h
is head. "Baby, I'm not lying. Seeing you cry? Hurts way more than this."

  I reached up to wipe at my eyes. For his sake, I tried to laugh. "Oh so, now, you tell me." I closed my eyes to blink away the tears. When I opened them, he was asleep.

  I sat there with him for the longest time. I kept expecting someone to make me leave. But by some strange twist of fate, or maybe a simple oversight, no one did.

  Watching him, I thought of all the twists and turns our relationship had taken since that very first day I'd seen him, standing outside his gate. If I'd only been honest with him from the get-go, things would've been a whole lot different.

  I reached out to stroke his hand, relieved to see his long, strong fingers returning to their normal shape. I moved my hand upward, tracing the lines and shapes of his tattoos. Feeling the ridges of his muscles steady beneath my fingers, it made me feel just a little better. Like he was solid and real, not just a figment, and not just wishful thinking.

  Except for the faint humming of equipment and Lawton's steady breathing, the room was eerily quiet. Thankfully, I hadn't spent a lot of time in hospitals. There was that time my mom fell off our apartment balcony, and then a couple years later, that crazy accident with Erika's Porsche.

  In mid-motion, I felt a stillness overtake me. This scene, right now, it was all too familiar – a different time, a different place, a different person.

  Or – I swallowed – maybe it wasn't. Slowly, I let my gaze travel the length of his arm, trying to see beyond the lines and patterns of his tattoos. And then, just when I started calling myself crazy for even looking, I spotted them, faint, but unmistakable, even with the inky camouflage.

  Cigarette burns.

  Oh my God. It was him.

  Chapter 63

  I remembered it all too well. It was the night Erika crashed her Porsche. I'd been standing just outside a side entrance, trying desperately to reach her parents before they spotted her car at the end of their driveway and assumed the worst.

  Erika was somewhere on the fifth floor, getting X-rays and a few stitches. I'd brought her to the hospital myself, in my piece-of-crap Fiesta, which, come to think of it, wasn't quite as crappy back then.