Wild Angel

by Shari Copell

  He dropped his face back into the angle of his arm. Shit. Here it comes. You son-of-a-bitch, you lied to me all these years. You kept my real father a secret from me for your own selfish, egotistical reasons, and I hope you rot in hell. You deserve for the fleas of a thousand camels to infest your armpits. I hope you die from painful boils on your groin. I hope...

  Her hand was warm on his bicep as she slipped onto the stool. Her lips touched his cheek and lingered near his ear. “I love you, Daddy. Nothing will ever change that. I will always be Nicole Ashley Sorenson, Tage Sorenson’s little girl.”

  He burrowed deeper into the crook of his elbow. “How could you love me? I kept him from you.”

  “So what? Mom told me the truth, and you win the daddy contest hands down. All you need to know is that I love you. You did what you thought was best at the time. I understand. I don’t hold anything against you or Mom.”

  “You don’t?” Tage turned his head to the side and tried to focus on Nicks’s face. She looked like an angel hovering over him.

  “Did you hold it against me when I threw your expensive wool suit in the washer and then the dryer? Mom was trying to teach me how to run the washing machine, and I didn’t know any better. Wasn’t it a Zanetti? Nearly a thousand-dollar suit? It would’ve fit a midget by the time I took it out of the dryer.”

  “Oh God...” Tage laughed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. This tiny toffee-eyed menace had been nothing but trouble when she was young. It had taken all the patience he possessed to get her past the tween years.

  “Did you hold it against me when I backed Mom’s car out through the garage door while texting? Did you hate me when I blew up the mailbox with an M-80 a couple of years ago on the Fourth of July? Or how about the time Lindsay and I were fighting over your iPad. Remember? We were both tugging on it, back and forth. I let go on purpose because I wanted her to fall on her ass. It flew out of Lindsay’s hands and sailed into the hot tub. Did you hate me then?”

  “No. I loved you no matter what you did.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Then why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”

  Rhetorical question, Sorenson. No good answer to that one.

  “We’re family, Daddy. And families stick together, no matter what.”

  “Your mother...”

  “...wants you to come home tonight. So do I.”

  “She gave you that notebook after I asked her not to. She promised me she wouldn’t tell you.”

  Nicks leaned in to rest her forehead against his shoulder. “Daddy, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Mom is innocent of the charges against her. She didn’t give me the notebook.”

  “Then how did you get it?”

  Nicks was silent for a long time, so long he pulled his head out of his arm and looked at her. She chewed her lip as she stared back. “Are you willing to listen with an open mind? Are you sober enough to understand what I’m about to tell you?”

  Tage flopped back in the stool. Stone Jensen was standing behind his daughter. It pissed him off that someone else was there to witness his humiliation. “What’s he doing here?” he growled.

  “I wanted to see your daughter here safely. And I came to back up what she’s about to tell you. I won’t repeat one word that’s said tonight. I promise,” Stone said.

  Tage gave a short laugh. “Yeah, and people making promises means so much to me right now.”

  “Daddy, please shut up and listen to me. Mom didn’t give me the notebook. I didn’t even know about it. Stone was the first one to make the connection between Asher and me, and only because he had a thing for my guitars.”

  “Yeah. So? I’m supposed to be grateful that Mr. Rock Star Jensen had a hand in unraveling my life?”

  Nicks pushed at his shoulder with the heel of her hand. “Goddamn you, you’re going to shut up and listen to me. This is important.”

  “Okay.” Surprised that she’d talk to him like that, he straightened on the stool, though he wasn’t sure he was very straight. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Look at me. Right in the eyes when I tell you this,” Nicks said. She sounded pissed. Dangerous. He did as commanded to the best of his ability.

  “There’s no easy way to say it, but Asher seems to be trying to contact Mom and me from beyond the grave.”

  Tage jerked and nearly slid off the stool. He was suddenly sober. Well, almost. Okay, not quite. “What?” He shook his head, certain he was hearing things.

  “It seemed to start when Mom visited Asher’s grave one day. She found a pick lying on the base of the stone. She swears it wasn’t there the first time she looked.”

  “Explain to me why your mother is visiting his grave in the first place.”

  “She’s been having dreams about him. At least she thought they were dreams. They started up out of the blue, and it freaked her out. She went to his grave to tell him to stop coming to her like that.”

  “Oh.”

  “She brought the pick home with her, which may or may not have been a mistake. We can’t debate that now. What’s done is done. She buried it in her sock drawer.”

  Hmm. Hiding things from him now. “What’s the next chapter of this mystery then?”

  “She told me she was hanging laundry up in my room one day. She turned around and the pick was lying on my jewelry box.”

  He shook with a sudden chill. “Really?”

  “Really. She put it back, and it stayed put. Then I started having dreams. I dreamt one night of a man. I didn’t know it was Asher at the time. He pressed three worn guitar picks into my hand. When I woke up...” she pulled her hand from her jeans pocket and opened it to reveal three picks of differing colors, “...I had these in my hand. Somehow, Asher gave them to me in the dream and made them real. They look just like the pick Mom found on the gravestone.”

  Tage’s eyes widened as he stared at the picks. “Jesus Christ. Are you sure about this?”

  She nodded. “Remember the night Mom had the dream and woke up screaming? We all came down the hall because we were scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “She was dreaming about Asher. He was trying to tell her something. He kept saying, ‘watch her’ and ‘help her’. We don’t know what he means. I was having a dream about him at the same time.”

  Tage turned away from her and covered his ears with his hands. “No. That’s not possible. That can’t happen.”

  “You think Mom and I don’t know that? We both thought we were nuts. Asher came to me in another dream and told me Stone knew who he was. I took a chance and showed Stone the picks Saturday morning. He’d already made the connection by that time, but didn’t want to tell me. He took me to Asher’s grave. I saw the picture. That’s when it all started to come together.”

  “Your mother is buying into all of this hocus-pocus bullshit too?”

  “It’s not bullshit, Daddy. Last night, in the middle of the night, I sensed something was wrong in my room. I turned on the light and found the notebook on my nightstand. It wasn’t there when I went to bed. I recognized Mom’s handwriting on the cover. I stayed up all night reading it. She didn’t give it to me. She made you a promise, and she kept it. She would never betray you like that.”

  “Honey...”

  “I’m not lying! And I’m not insane. At least not yet. Mom hears him calling her name sometimes. Here at the bar and at home. Before you came home from the trip tonight, it happened again. Asher called my name and told me to be careful, to watch. That’s why I turned all the lights on. I was scared shitless. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the truth.”

  “My whole family has gone nuts.” Tage shook his head. “Certifiable whack jobs.”

  Stone stepped forward. “If they’ve gone bonkers, then I have too, Mr. Sorenson. Asher Pratt shouted my name in my ear Saturday night after I brought Nicks home from our concert. At your house.”

  Tage glanced between his beloved daughter and the dark-haired man standing behind her. They were serious. They
really believed...

  Suddenly, Nicks jerked her head to face the dining room and stage area. Stone’s eyes widened as he turned to look as well.

  “Do you hear that?” Nicks turned back to him, one hand gripping his, the other pointing toward the stage area. “Listen.”

  Everyone went still. Nicks’s eyes were round and glassy in the half-light. Stone had the same freaked-out expression on his face. Tage thought they were crazy, but he played along, holding his breath and pretending to listen.

  He heard the usual sounds. The coolers running, the neon lights in the front windows buzzing softly. But there was something else above the white noise of the bar. The more he focused on it, the clearer it was. He locked eyes with his daughter.

  Somehow, someone was playing a guitar in the dining room. He clearly heard the faint chords of Can’t Get Enough of Your Love. Shouting, singing, a crowd cheering for the show they were watching. And he instinctively knew if he walked over to the stage area, the noise would stop. He would see nothing.

  “Will you drive me home? Marybeth took my keys away from me.” Tage gasped as he stumbled to his feet. “I have to talk to your mother. Tonight.”

  Chelsea bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. Poor Tage. He was trying so hard to sober up and have a meaningful conversation with her, but he kept listing to one side like a ship taking on water. She would probably have to revisit the finer points of this discussion tomorrow. For now, it was enough that her big, adorable Swede had come home to her.

  She steered him to the edge of their bed and sat him down. She rarely saw him this way. Thank God he was a quiet drunk. The kids had gotten to bed late. Lindsay’s bedroom was right next to theirs. She didn’t want anyone awake and listening to the conversation they were having.

  His hands lay limp in his lap; his head drooped so low his chin touched his chest. He made no move to talk or get ready for bed so she stood in front of him and began to unbutton his shirt.

  Her touch seemed to rouse him. He looked at her with bleary, blood-shot eyes. “I’m so sorry, Chelsea.”

  “How much did you have to drink tonight?”

  “Two tequila and ginger ales.”

  “Only two?” That was hard to believe. He smelled like he’d bathed in tequila.

  “Well, they were half tequila. Marybeth made them for me. She took my keys.”

  Chelsea held her laughter. Marybeth was going to get a big hug from her the next time she saw her. The older woman had plenty of experience with temperamental men. She knew exactly how to handle a pissed-off husband. Get him plastered drunk and take his keys.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” he moaned again.

  She worked her way down the row of buttons, a slight smile on her face. “For what?”

  “I should’ve known you’d never do anything to hurt me. It was such a shock to see Nicks standing there with that notebook.”

  “Well, it was a shock to me too, big guy. It was hidden in the bottom of a box all the way in the back of our closet.”

  He sighed. His hands flopped around in his lap. “I need to know if you still love Asher. I won’t say another word about it, but be honest with me now. I’ll love you anyway. I know I’ll never compare to him. I want to know if you love him more than me.”

  Ah, there it was. Alcohol, the universal truth serum. She wondered if those doubts had always haunted him. He’d never said anything about it to her, but that was typical of her stubborn husband. Suffer in silence. Never let anyone see you sweat. God forbid you should ever ask your wife how she felt about something.

  She got to the end of the buttons and reached up with gentle fingers to push the white shirt off his shoulders. He shrugged, trying to help, then slumped and gave up. Chelsea noticed a tear run down the side of his face.

  Throwing the shirt on the floor, she ran her hands over Tage’s muscled shoulders and upper back. He was a fine specimen of manhood, always had been. Inside and out. He jogged several miles every day, had a gym in the basement any bodybuilder would envy. All that thick blond hair was still on his head. She found him hot as hell, even after all these years.

  He was a gorgeous man that caught the eye, but that’s not why she’d spent the past twenty years with him. He fit her. He was her mate for life. Chelsea wished she could make him understand that, but this was classic right-brain-versus-left-brain thinking. Men saw things in black and white, either/or. Women understood that if you loved someone, you still had plenty of love left for everyone else.

  She sat down next to him on the bed and took his hand. “I won’t lie to you. Asher will always have a piece of my heart, if only because I gave birth to his daughter.”

  Tage snorted and tried to turn away but she held him fast. “You asked me, Sorenson. Now you’re going to sit there and listen.”

  “Okay.” More tears tracked down his face. He sounded like a wounded child.

  “Asher played guitar and broke my damned heart. More than once. That’s as much as I can say about him. But you... I told Nicks there were no words for a man like you. We are so tangled up in each other we practically share a soul. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You’re my everything, Tage. My friend, my confidante, my business partner. The father of my children—all five of them, thank you very much. My partner in crime. And my lover... Jesus, what a lover you are.” She stared hard into his blue-topaz eyes. “You are obstinate and inflexible and I want to split your head open sometimes, but you have a heart as big as the sky. I am acutely aware every day of my life how lucky I am. You could’ve done so much better than me. If you’re doubting my love, then I’m not doing my job very well. I’m sorry about that. I’ll work harder at it.”

  He was sobbing now, his face in his hands. “I know all those things. I’m sorry, Chelsea. I didn’t believe you. I should’ve known better. I love you so much.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, big guy. Don’t cry. I don’t blame you. I don’t know what Nicks told you at the bar, but it’s been pretty weird for the two of us around here lately. You didn’t know that.”

  “I know now. I heard someone playing guitar at the bar tonight.”

  Chelsea sat back, shocked. “You did?”

  “Yeah. All three of us heard it. Can we talk about this some time when my head doesn’t feel like someone’s pounding railroad spikes into my skull?”

  “Of course.” She ran her hand down his abs and began to unbutton his dress pants. “Does your head hurt too much to have sex?”

  He wobbled as he reached for her. “Hell, no.”

  She stood him up and pushed his pants to the floor. Taking his big, solid erection in her hand, she smiled at him. “Then I want you to fuck me. Hard. Conquer me like a Viking.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.” Tage wrapped his arms around her, pushed her over on the bed, then fell on top of her. He pulled back and ran a knuckle gently over her cheek. “It would be my honor to fuck you, Mrs. Sorenson.” He sighed. “I will never doubt you again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Nicks rolled over in bed, prepared to snuggle in and go back to sleep when she realized her alarm hadn’t gone off. She glanced at the clock. It was 9:30 a.m. Monday morning.

  She was late. Really late.

  “Shit!” She leapt out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and ran for the bathroom. Where the hell was her mother? She usually stuck her nose in the door if Nicks was slow.

  There would be no bitching about the extra hours of sleep though. It had been a late night for all of them.

  She and Stone had to lift her father out of the car when they got him home. He was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Nicks snickered as she got in the shower. He’d taken one look at her mother and straightened up like a soldier coming to attention. Well, at least he’d tried to.

  Her mother had smiled an amused little smile, taken him by the arm, and guided him up to their room. He’d apologized the whole way up the stairs.

  As she stepped into the showe
r, Nicks mused over the two of them. She’d never given her parents’ relationship much thought. They just were, like stars. Like fresh air.

  Fate was such a funny, fickle thing. So many things had to happen for her parents to meet and marry. If Asher hadn’t been skittish of commitment—if he hadn’t had a life-threatening illness—he might have lived to raise her. Might’ve married her mother once he found out she was pregnant. Would she have siblings that looked similar? In any case, things would’ve been very different.

  And that was a scenario she couldn’t wrap her mind around. Tage and Chelsea were like two peas in a pod, completing each other’s sentences, constantly touching and kissing. They were supposed to be married.

  She wouldn’t have T.J. And that was inconceivable.

  She finished the shower with a new perspective. She—all of them—were right where they were supposed to be. Life was very, very good.

  Nicks charged down the stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. She hit the tile in her socks and skidded into the open arms of Tage Sorenson.

  He held her against him, rocking her gently back and forth. For a moment, she considered pulling back, telling him she was late and didn’t have time for this. But he was warm and solid and comforting, and she ended up relaxing against his chest.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Pretty much like a huge pile of crap. Thank God for aspirin.”

  “Did you let me sleep in on purpose?” she murmured into his shirt. He smelled like Hugo Boss, the cologne she’d gotten him for Christmas two years ago.

  “Yeah. I snuck in and shut your alarm off. It was a long night for all of us,” Tage said as he kissed her cheek. “You can be late for school this once.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry for the way I was last night. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

  Nicks laughed. “What? You mean drunk off your ass? I would’ve gladly joined you at the bar Saturday morning.”