by K. B. Jacobs
Chapter Thirty-Two
Walsh
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, taking in my disheveled appearance. She’d decimated me in every way...body and soul. I hated and feared what I had to go out there and do, but it was time. Hell, it was way past time for me to own up to my fuck-ups. We couldn’t move forward with my lies between us. I wanted a future with Lake so I had to man up, find my balls, and go out there and tell her the truth.
I swallowed back the nausea and hung my head to my chest with my hands propped on the sink. I struggled to get my panicked breathing under control.
I loved her. In my entire twenty-six years of life, I’d never fallen in love before. Every poet throughout time had gone on about how love could overcome anything. I had to believe that, or else I’d never be able to confess.
She’d be hurt, but she’d get over it and forgive me, right? I’d seen her face and read the emotions there. I had to believe she felt just as strongly as me. That was a foundation for recovery.
Mentally psyched up, I squared my shoulders and opened the bathroom door. The bedroom was quiet. I sought out Lake in the gloom of the room caused by the blackout curtains, although it probably was getting dark outside, too. Our hours had all been screwed up by the twenty-four-hour shifts at the brewery.
She lay on her stomach, sound asleep with her arms wrapped around a pillow. I wanted to be that pillow, surrounded by her.
She desperately needed sleep, and I was way too wound up to be able to relax. So it would be better for me to let her get some rest.
I ignored the relief that swept over me. Chicken-shitted coward. I couldn’t deny that I was happy to put off telling her. I could stay in this happy place where we might have a future just a little bit longer.
I slipped on jeans and a shirt, crept over to her, and just watched her for a moment, letting the peaceful sound of her breathing settle into my soul. This gorgeous woman asleep in my bed was everything I wanted in life. She had to see that, too.
I’d make sure she saw it.
I gently traced over the swoop of her stars and then kissed the back of her neck. “I’ll be back. I love you,” I murmured. What a pansy-ass move to say the words for the first time while she slept.
I padded down the stairs and surveyed the room. Papers were scattered everywhere from when Lake had thrown them at me. I smiled as I quickly gathered them. She was so beautiful when she got riled up. It was probably a little sick that I got so turned on by that, but that was Lake—fiery and emotional. I loved that about her. I slid the papers into my briefcase and made sure the other paperwork I needed was inside. I tied on my hiking boots and let myself out the door.
I’d let her sleep for a couple of hours and then come back with dinner so we could talk. Once my confession was out in the open, I could make the bigger confession...that I was hopelessly in love with her and wanted to make a life with her here in Aspenridge at the brewery together.
I wanted us to have that future. I just hoped I’d read the signals right, and she wanted that, too.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lake
I rolled over and raised one heavy eyelid to peer into the darkness. The generic ringtone blared through the room again and a rectangle of light casted a white glow in the pitch black room. Struggling to detangle myself from the sheets, I sat up and rubbed at my tired, itchy eyes.
“Walsh?”
Only the ringing of the phone answered me.
I grabbed it off the nightstand, almost dropping it on my lap when the overly loud ring went off again. The Denver-based number wasn’t familiar, but neither was the phone. I turned the plain black phone over in my hand. A far cry from my rainbow-colored cover with World’s Best Talker printed in a swirly script. Walsh needed a new phone case. Maybe for his birthday, whenever that was.
The ring tone cut off, and seconds later, the phone beeped, signaling a new voice mail. I set the phone on the pillow next to me and collapsed back on to the bed. My stomach growled for food, but it could wait just a little longer.
Just as my breathing eased back into a pre-dream rhythm, the phone went off again. I snatched it up to squint at the screen. Same Denver number. Someone wanted to talk to Walsh pretty badly.
“Fine, I’m up,” I grumbled into the darkness. I shuffled over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Walsh, are you in there?”
No reply. A quick look inside revealed an empty bathroom. I yawned and stretched my bare arms over my head, the ringing phone still clutched in my hand. The cool wood of the stairs sent a chill up my back as I headed down to the living room. Walsh’s suite was big, but he should have heard me calling for him.
Downstairs, the lights were off, and Walsh was nowhere to be seen. His clothes were gone from where I had stripped him bare by the couch, and his shoes weren’t by the door. He must have run out for a bit. My stomach growled again. Hopefully he went out for food.
The phone chirped out another voice mail notification. Persistent much?
I draped a throw from the back of the couch over my shoulders and headed to the kitchen, flipping on lights as I went. If Walsh had anything in his little fridge, it was about to end up in my belly. I threw open the fridge door at the same time the phone in my hand went off again.
“Son of a bitch.” I slammed the door shut and mashed the answer button before jerking the phone to my ear. “What?”
“Um...I need to speak with Walsh Davidson.”
I shook my head to clear out the leftover sleep fog clogging my hearing. “Who?”
“Shoot.” Papers shuffled in the background on the other side of the line. “I mean Walsh Brackens.”
Damn persistent caller was a fucking wrong number waking me up from a blissful dream of Walsh taking me. “This phone belongs to Walsh Thorne. Wrong number, buddy.’
I pulled the phone away.
“Wait, don’t hang up. This isn’t a wrong number.”
I put the phone to my ear again, confused.
The mystery caller sighed heavily. “Walsh Thorne? How many times is this guy gonna change his name? Can I talk to him?”
“He’s not here.” Whoever he was. A lead cannon ball dropped into my stomach, an ice-cold chill spreading from my head down to my toes.
“Listen, this is DA Holliver. I need to confirm if Walsh whatever-his-name-is will be there to testify at his parents’ hearing. It’s next week, and I’m running out of time to finalize my witness list. Tell him to call me as soon as he gets back.”
I nodded into the quiet stillness. “Okay.” The word came out automatically, my body running on autopilot while my brain whirled with chaos.
The line went dead, and I dropped the phone onto the little island counter.
What the hell was going on?
I trudged up the stairs, my feet weighing me down and threatening to send me rolling back to the bottom. In the bedroom, I fished my own phone out of my jean pocket and pulled up Alex on my speed dial.
“Hey,” she answered on the first ring. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I was.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared in the darkness at the wall across from me. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure.” Alex paused for a beat. “Are you okay? You sound a little off.”
Of course Alex would notice. “I don’t know yet. Can you pull up your laptop and search for Walsh Davidson?”
“Okay.” Alex drew the word out almost like it was a question. Her fingers tapped at the keys. “Holy shit.”
I swallowed back the bile threatening to erupt from my empty stomach. “Tell me.”
“Walsh Davidson is the son of convicted con artists Noah and Becca Davidson.” Alex’s voice was steady as she read from a news article. “The three of them traveled throughout the western United States hustling minor cons until they attempted to con the wife of prominent Senator Ron Lewiston and were each charged with multiple counts of fraud and extortion. Despite his young age, Walsh Davidson faced cr
iminal adult charges until he agreed to testify against his parents. His testimony was the deal clincher that sent Noah and Becca away, each of them sentenced to twenty-five years behind bars for fraud, child endangerment, and criminal neglect.”
I sat in stunned silence, unable to form words around the thoughts running in my head.
“This article was from ten years ago,” Alex reminded me.
My chest tightened, and I struggled to suck in air. “What about Walsh Brackens?”
“What’s going on, Lake?”
“Please just look it up.”
The line was silent for a few seconds with only the sound of Alex typing.
“There’s not as much here. He served in the army and did a tour in Afghanistan.” She hit a few more buttons. “Oh.”
My heart rate kicked into another gear. “Oh what?”
“He served in the same unit as Damian Thorne.”
I swallowed back the bile threatening to heave from my stomach. He wasn’t Damian. “He lied.”
“Lake—”
“He lied to me. About his name, who he is, everything.” I’d let him in. I’d trusted him...with the brewery, with our lives...with my heart. The heart that felt like someone was cleaving it in half with a dull axe.
“He’s not Emily.”
“Like hell he’s not.” I stood and paced at the bottom of the bed. “He’s just like Emily, only worse. He made me think we...”
“What?” Alex’s voice was soft, almost a whisper like she knew exactly how close I’d come to giving Walsh all of me.
I choked back a sob and bent over to suck in more air. “It doesn’t matter, because it was all a lie. Walsh Thorne is just another con man, and I’m the mark.”
“I can’t believe Walsh sees you as a con job. You need to talk to him.”
“Why? So he can give me some sob story like Emily did. I don’t need to hear how he had to lie to me to protect me, but that he only did it because he cares. It’s all bullshit in the end, and I don’t need to waste my time. No more, not again.” I wiped at the hot tears that flowed uncontrollably down my face. A sob broke through my control, and I cursed myself for being weak. Emily hadn’t deserved my tears all those years ago, and Walsh didn’t deserve them then.
“Where are you? Let me come help.”
“No, I’m fine. I know exactly what I need to do. I’ll talk to you later.” I clicked off the phone call before Alex could say anything else.
She was one of the best friends I could ask for, but her words wouldn’t fix this. I’d let myself get caught up in Walsh’s fantasy. That was on me. But I could end it just as fast. I tossed my phone on the bed and pulled on my clothes. I had to be strong for a little bit longer.
I needed to be ready when the liar got back, and then I could go home and fall apart.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Walsh
Two hours later, I slid my keycard into the door of my hotel room, the aroma from the green chili cheeseburgers in the bags making my mouth water. I patted my jeans pockets and felt the little circle of gold and diamonds waiting there. After making a special purchase toward our future, I felt more positive and sure about my upcoming disclosure to Lake. I couldn’t wait to see it on her finger. I had a plan. We would have a future. Yeah, nothing about this discussion would be pleasant, but there was no avoiding it. I hated thinking about all the screw-ups that had led me here, but the fact is they had led me here, to her, and that was a good thing.
I opened the door, and there she was.
I halted mid-stride as I came into the room. Lake stood next to the sofa, fully dressed. “Well, hey, beautiful,” I said with a smile. “I didn’t figure you’d be up yet. Why didn’t you text me?”
She shook her head. “Because, sweetheart, you left your phone here.” She lifted my cell phone and smiled.
Something about her didn’t seem quite right. Her smile was too bright, and a cute pet name coming out of her mouth wasn’t normal. I was much more used to that mouth cursing me.
Her eyes were still weighted down with exhaustion. She needed more sleep.
I crossed over to her. “You still look tired. I brought us some dinner. How about we eat, and then maybe we can go back to bed?”
I drew her into my chest and nuzzled her neck, inhaling her luscious scent and touch. I craved her in every way.
She wrapped her hand around behind my neck, pulling me in even closer. “Mmm,” she moaned as she scratched her nails hard across the nape of my neck.
Like always when she was within touching range of my body, my cock pulsed with need, with want, with lust. I could stay in her arms forever.
“That sounds good,” her voice whispered, soft and sultry. Her breath glancing over my skin left goosebumps in its wake. “I only have one problem with that.”
She sounded so damn sexy, and I got even harder.
“What’s that, darling?” I lifted the hem of her T-shirt, finding cold, clammy skin. I pulled back to look at her, shocked to find her eyes filled with tears.
She brushed her thumb across my cheek. “It’s just I’m not sure what I should call you...Damian, Walsh, or...cock-sucking, lying bastard!” Her knee came up hard in my groin as her hand drew back, and she nailed me with her fist.
Black spots swam in front of my eyes as I fell over in a tuck, pain radiating out my legs and up my stomach to my chest. I was pretty sure I was about to throw up one of my testicles. Motherfucker, that hurt.
But the fact I’d never have kids again didn’t matter when I looked up into Lake’s ravaged, pain-filled face.
I reached for her, but she slapped my hand away and backed away from me like I planned to physically hurt her.
“Don’t you touch me,” she sobbed in a hiccupping breath.
My heart shattered.
She knew. Somehow, she’d found out about all my lies before I’d gotten a chance to confess.
“You’re no better than anyone else. In fact, you’re worse. You’re just like my mother. You lied to me. I trusted—” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper and cracked, just like my breaking heart. “And I was the idiot who believed you. Oh, god, I don’t ever learn, do I?” Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Lake, let me explain...” There had to be something I could do to fix this.
Her eyes hardened as she shook her head.
Hatred and anger mixed in her expression, and the pain in her gaze killed me—stark, blinding pain. I’d done this to her, and that was the most despicable thing ever. I’d hurt the woman I loved.
She straightened and dashed the tears—an offending show of emotion—off her face with her fingers. Her hands shook. “Walsh Davidson, or whoever the hell you are. You need to get out of my town. You step one foot into my brewery, and I will shoot your balls off. Then I will have you hauled to jail for trespassing.” Her voice came out flat and devoid of all emotion. “Don’t come near me, and don’t you dare come near Naked Brews. I never want to see your lying face ever again.”
She turned and ran out the door of my hotel room, slamming it shut behind her.
Only silence remained, and the screaming sound of my soul dying.
I screwed up everything I touched. For the first time in my life, I’d allowed myself to hope and dream that this time would be different. I’d fantasized about a future with Lake even when I knew this landmine was out there, waiting to shatter us both.
Just like when I wasn’t there for my team in Afghanistan, my mistake cost someone else I loved. My selfishness had caused Lake pain, and I would never forgive myself for that. That wasn’t love. If I’d truly loved her, I would have protected her from pain no matter what. I hadn’t done that. Instead I’d been the one to instigate her hurt.
Why didn’t I ever learn? Why had I thought this would be any different?
The food bags had dropped to the floor when Lake had attacked me. I ignored them as I crossed the room to the French doors leading out to the balcony. I stepped outside into the frigid cold.
It had begun to snow again.
I laughed maniacally. Of course, it was snowing again. Snow had played with me here from the very beginning. I’d fooled myself that I had felt the peace of welcome in this snowy community. But Mother Nature had laughed at me at every turn, from my car getting completely screwed up to the snow falling off the roof of Naked Brews. I wasn’t welcome here. I saw the reality at that moment.
I turned toward the stucco wall and slammed my fist into it as hard as I could. The pain didn’t settle the savage anger crawling up my chest. I’d done this. I’d ruined everything. I didn’t deserve happiness. I screamed out my ruin and emotion until I had no sound left to make.
Then I was simply numb.
Sometime later, a knock sounded on the hotel room door. The only reason I’d heard it was because I hadn’t bothered to shut the French doors. I scrambled to get to the door.
Maybe Lake had come back.
I opened the door. Sawyer stood there with a very expensive, unopened bottle of Scotch. I raised my brows in question.
“I came in to pick up something at ITB and ran into Lake. She looked rough, so I assumed...” He tilted his head to examine me. “Obviously, I guessed right, and you screwed up. So I thought maybe you could use a drink.”
Drinking that entire bottle wouldn’t be enough to numb this pain, but I was willing to try.
I let him into the room but sighed. “Listen, Sawyer, this was really nice.” I waved my hand at the bottle of liquor. “But I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Sawyer quirked an eyebrow at me. “I’m sorry. Did you just mistake me for a chick? Hell, no, I don’t want to talk about it. I may be gay, but I’m still a guy, which means I’m here solely to get drunk with you because friends don’t let friends get shitfaced alone. That’s it. If you want to talk through your emotions about however you screwed up, I can call a chick for you.” Sawyer pulled his phone out, ready to dial.
I almost managed a grin. “No need. I’m perfectly fine with just getting shitfaced. Let’s find some glasses.”