Mind Lies

by Harlow Stone

  I swallow past my bite of eggs. “I didn’t tell them the truth because I wanted them to be angry with you, Locklin. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

  Waving a hand, he cuts me off. “The only person people should be angry with is me. That’s not your fault, Jerri. That’s all on me.”

  Locklin has always been straight to the point, but this is more candid. He’s open in a way I haven’t seen before.

  He lied to you.

  My phone starts ringing, and I grab it from the night stand. “Could you . . .” I don’t finish speaking because he’s already getting out of his chair.

  “Morning chat with Portia, I know.” He pauses at the doorway and adds, “When you’re finished, I’d like to talk. I’ll be on the back porch.”

  Before he closes the door, I add, “I told you I didn’t want you to stay here, Locklin.”

  He throws back, “And I told you I wasn’t leaving.”

  Then he shuts the door.

  “Shit,” I mumble when I pick up the phone.

  “What the hel—lo woman! How you doing today?” Portia asks.

  “Cooper’s around, and you almost cursed, didn’t you?”

  She whines, “I’ve been trying for over six months, Jer. It’s impossible. If there’s someone who can go a month without swearing, I wanna meet them and ask how they do it. I was on a good swear-free streak until last night in bed when I asked Cooper to F-word me, so I had to start all over again! And the kicker here: Coop loves dirty talk in bed, but he still told me that was a fail! So what am I supposed to say? Sex me harder, Coop? It doesn’t sound near as good or as dirty. If we keep this up, I’m going to be talking the way Christine talks around her kids when she’s all, ‘He put the P in her V.’ I can’t live like this, Jerri. Honestly, who doesn’t swear?”

  Finally, she pauses to take a breath. I answer, “Holy people? The clergy? Nuns?”

  She scoffs. “They do so, my friend. You don’t go around talking about Hell all day and not swear.”

  I form a reply, but she cuts me off. “Anyway, what had you cursing the S-word, you lucky B?”

  I sigh. “Locklin’s here.”

  She lets out a low whistle. “That didn’t take long. I thought he had arrived there two days ago?”

  Frowning, I ask, “How do you know when he was supposed to get here?”

  “Because he told me,” she simply replies.

  “Did you not think it’d be a good idea to pass that information along? We talk nearly every day. How did you leave that shit unsaid? What the hell, P?”

  She sighs in contentment. “First, tell me how good it felt to drop the S- and the H-bomb, and then I’ll answer your question.”

  “It felt fucking fantastic. Now spill.”

  I swear she’s having an orgasm when she mutters, “Gosh, I miss my F-bombs.” Clearing her throat, she then dives in. “He showed up at the apartment a little over a week ago. After a few good curses with Cooper, he let him in.”

  I swallow. “Cooper let Locklin into your apartment?”

  “I know. I was shocked to sh-shoshana, too. Quick save with shoshana, right? There’s more where that came from. So yeah, he let him in, and get this . . .” She pauses for dramatic effect. “They shared a beer together, Jer. A beer!”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I’m not. You can’t make this shellac up.”

  “I feel oddly betrayed by Cooper. But my pregnancy hormones want to weep, P, because that’s all I have wanted for the longest time. Only now, after I told him I was done, does he finally insert himself into my life, and my friend’s lives. How messed up is that?”

  “It is messed up, Babe. But I think he had good intentions.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  She sighs. “You know I’m a pretty neutral person, Jer.”

  I snort. “Neutral my ass. You can hold a grudge unlike anyone I know. The question is why is the grudge fading in this case?”

  “I think he’s really sorry, Jer. And I know you don’t want to believe it—no wait—you want to pretend you don’t, but I know you still love him. I know that because even if Cooper betrays me in the most awful of ways, I would still love him. You can’t just turn that shiatzu off. That being said, I think maybe you might want to give him another chance.”

  “P, are you alright?”

  “Ugh. F-fund it, I’m pregnant.”

  I nearly drop the phone. “What? When?”

  “You better not ask how because I f-fundraising hate when people ask that.”

  “Good save again, P. And I knew there was something wrong. There was way too much sentimentality in that last spiel.”

  “I know. I feel like a weepy, old woman. I found out the night before Locklin came to the apartment. That might have been why I was so accommodating, considering I just found out I got my spawn-carrying card. When I think about it, it’s probably why Cooper was so accommodating, too. I mean, he just found out he was gonna be a dad, Jer. Maybe they connected on some dad-to-be level, you know? I went to bed, and they were still talking.”

  Walking into the bathroom, I place the phone on the vanity as I go through my morning routine.

  “I just don’t understand why? Locklin doesn’t ask for anyone’s permission in anything. And ultimately he wouldn’t give a shit what Cooper thought. So why talk to him?”

  “Are you peeing right now?” Portia asks, to which I respond, “When your spawn sits on your bladder, you won’t care whose listening or watching, so long as you get your ass to the toilet in time. That’s my first pregnancy tip for you. Congrats by the way. You guys deserve a big family.”

  You can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Thanks, Jer, and sorry for not telling you sooner. That scare with you at Marcus’s shop made me want to wait twelve weeks before telling anyone.”

  “How far?”

  “Eight weeks along. And I don’t think Lock was looking for permission; Cooper said he was earning his respect.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t eavesdrop?” I ask her.

  “Of course I did, for at least half an hour. But when my ass started to go numb from sitting in the hallway for so long, I went to bed.”

  “Hmmm. So did you garner any useful info from your thirty-minute stakeout, or should I go ask Locklin myself? You know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  She’s quiet for a moment and then says, “I’m going to say one thing, Jer, and that’s hear him out. I know you said you don’t want to talk to him, but holy shishkabob, the man has a way with words. And if he says even half to you of what he said to Cooper, then I think you might have a change of heart.”

  I sigh. “That’s just it, P. They’re words. They’ve always been just words, and I don’t for even a minute think that I can get over how I felt that day when he was in the hospital. I don’t think I can get over not being wanted.”

  “Babe, listen to him. It sounds like you guys haven’t done a lot of actual talking, and I think that if you do, you might gain a whole new perspective.”

  Placing my hair into a knot, I mutter, “I’m letting you go now. Not because I don’t love you, but because your practicality is starting to scare me.”

  “Cheese and rice, just talk to him. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Lady.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  I feel as if I’ve sat here for fucking ever waiting for Jerri to come out of the house. I don’t mind waiting for her, but I’m anxious.

  I need her to talk to me.

  I need her to hear me out.

  If she doesn’t, it’s just going to take that much longer to get her to see that I’m dead fucking serious about wanting her in my life.

  I’ve always wanted her in my life.

  But my actions spoke louder than words: I had been absent too often for too long.

  Never again.

  When she finally comes out showered and dressed almost an hour later, I’m nearly lost for w
ords. I used to sit and watch her sleep before leaving in the middle of the night. I know how beautiful she is. In the daylight, she’s as beautiful as ever.

  The day is cloudy, as are most in Ireland. I wait for her to take a seat next to me, but she continues down the steps toward the path leading to Paddy and Nessa’s house.

  “I’d really like to talk with you, Lass,” I tell her as I stand. She barely slows and responds, “Then you’ll have to talk on the way to the house. If you haven’t noticed, I barely fit in the shirt I have on and my pants won’t button up. Ness called and said the clothes I ordered online are here, and I’d rather not walk around with my pants undone.”

  I look down Sure enough, her small, round belly is poking out the bottom of her shirt, and the button on the pants she’s wearing is being held together by what looks like a hair tie.

  “I can drive us,” I tell her as I jog down the steps.

  She doesn’t stop. “I walk there every day. I like it.”

  Clearly ending the discussion, I follow in step behind her. It isn’t lost on me that I’m following another woman, but the difference this time is that it’s not toward danger, or death.

  It’s toward the very person who can give me life.

  We walk in silence for the near-mile to the main house, where Paddy and Nessa greet Jerri with welcoming arms. I’m not near as fortunate with the two people I consider parents.

  “Ye pull yer head outta yer arse?” Paddy asks from where he stands in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking my entrance.

  “I’m workin’ on it, ol’ man.”

  Nessa slaps him on the arm. “I would never keep ye from yer home, Locklin. But mark my words, me boy: ye upset Jerrilyn while she’s carryin’ that bairn, ye’ll be seein’ what’s on the other side of my wooden spoon. And I ain’t talkin’ about the handle; I’m talkin’ ’bout the cast iron pan that sits under it.”

  Raising her eyebrows to drive her point home, I nod and say, “I won’t upset her, Ness.”

  I’m going to upset her. That’s a given. But if I told Ness I’d try, that wouldn’t be good enough. She nods and puts her arm around my shoulders. “Come on in. I just made some tea.”

  Paddy watches me, as though I were about to steal something, until we settle at the kitchen table. Nessa begins piling a dinner-sized amount of food on our plates, and it’s not even lunch.

  “So much better,” Jerri says when she comes out of the bathroom dressed in a loose paisley-print shirt and those tight, black, stretchy pants all women seem to fucking wear these days.

  She turns around to grab a cup, and my eyes zero in on her ass, which has grown at least two sizes. I love every extra inch of it.

  “Fuck!” I curse when Paddy slaps me on the back of the head.

  Hard.

  “Ye don’t look at ’er like that,” Paddy grumbles.

  “Watched you look at Ness like that for the past twenty-seven years, you horny, old bastard,” I shoot back.

  He smirks. “Nessa’s mine to look at. Jerrilyn quit belongin’ to ya the day ye broke her heart.”

  I grumble, making sure the women aren’t listening. But they’re too preoccupied going through Jerri’s new clothes. “Fuck’s sake, Paddy. I’m tryin’ to fix it. Until she actually lets me talk to her, there’s fuck all I can do other than what I’m doing now.”

  Paddy pops a tart in his mouth and mutters, “So ye just keep playin’ with yer ’gina then?”

  “Haven’t got a ’gina to play with, you grumpy prick.”

  He nods. “Could’ve fooled me, Lad. Ye called Ness to ask fer cookin’ lessons this mornin’. Think she’s got some extra hair rollers in her dressin’ table if yas are doin’ makeover’s next.”

  I sigh and resist the urge to run my hands through my hair, which has grown past my ears. “Jealous, Paddy? You’re gettin’ a little thin on the top. That why you always keep your hat on?”

  He scowls and barks, “Mind yer elders, smart arse.”

  “You mind yer mouths. I won’t have yas talkin’ like that when my grandbaby gets here,” Nessa chirps before she and Jerri take a seat at the table. Since Nessa’s word is law around here, we talk about mundane things like the boats and the weather as we eat and drink tea. When we finish, I gather Jerri’s things, two boxes full of new clothes, and follow her home.

  ***

  “Why did you go see Cooper?” I ask Locklin later that afternoon. After I put all my new clothes in the wash, I settle in with my feet up on the large sofa as Locklin tidies up his mess from cooking breakfast this morning.

  He wipes his hands on the towel and comes into the living room with a beer for himself and a water for me. Taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, he answers, “It’s like that saying, ‘You don’t know where you’re going until you know where you’ve been.’ That’s the best way for me to describe it. I’ve lost a lot of time with you, Jerri. And that’s on me. I know it is. I’ll work hard to get that time back, Lass. But I need to know where you’ve been first.”

  I tilt my head, mildly confused. He carries on. “I know you better than I know anyone, Jerri. But those people were a part of you, and I never made the time to care about that. I never made time to dig deeper, to get to know that part of you better—who it is you are with them. I can’t take back what I’ve done and how I’ve acted for the past ten years, but if I learned anything from getting shot and waking up in that hospital, it’s that I need to try harder.”

  They’re just words, Jerri.

  Placing my water on the table, I clasp my hands together and tell him, “Locklin, I appreciate the effort. I really do. I’m grateful you want to be here, to be a part of our child’s life. But that doesn’t include a romantic relationship with me.”

  He closes his eyes, pained. “I was fighting for the wrong thing, Lass.” Then, he opens them again and turns to face me. “The wrong person. I think I knew that before, but the guilt—fuck, Jerri—the guilt eats at me.”

  “What are you saying, Locklin?”

  Leaning his head back against the couch, he looks to the ceiling then closes his eyes. “She called me that day,” he whispers.

  I swallow. “Siobhan?”

  He nods. “I hadn’t talked to her and had been avoiding her calls because she was always with the twins, or the gang, stoned out of her fuckin’ tree.” Shaking his head, he adds, “I hated that, Jer. I absolutely hated those drugs because I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I couldn’t give her enough. So she needed to find what she was missing elsewhere.”

  Reaching out, I put my hand on his shoulder. “I think addiction effects everyone differently, Lock. If she got that hooked that fast, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done about it. That’s not on you—that’s on her.”

  I give him a squeeze and place my hand back in my lap, but he reaches out and places his on my foot, needing the contact to finish his story.

  “I answered the call because I always did. I may have turned down hanging out with her near the end, but I always answer when she called. As usual, she sounded fucked up, hadn’t gone to bed in who knows how long. So when she asked me to meet her at the docks, I told her no. I had no desire to hang out with her and those useless fucks she spent time with.”

  “You think that if you had gone, you could have saved her,” I softly say.

  Nodding, he tilts his head my way, eyes pained. “Yes, Lass. I do. So when I finally did find her later that night, it made it that much worse.”

  “Her death is not on your shoulders, Locklin. Did she call you to help her? To get her out of there?”

  “No.”

  “Had you have gone down there, do you think she would have left with you?”

  “No,” he whispers.

  “Then it doesn’t sound like there’s a whole lot you could have done. She made her choices, and though they were shitty ones—and no woman deserves what happened to her—she still chose the path she walked.”

  Rubbing his hands over his face, he s
ighs and lifts his head from the couch. “What I’m trying to tell you is that something broke in me that day, Jerri. I felt inferior, scared, and fucking useless as an eighteen-year-old. What happened played a great role in shaping me into who I am. But, Jerrilyn . . .” He pauses. My eyes meet his. “Never had I known true fear until you left my hotel room that night . . . and ended up in the hospital. It fucking gutted me, Lass. What I thought was fear as eighteen-year-old boy holds no weight next to what I felt when I got that call from Bryan. It hurt me to argue with you to get you to leave that night. But damn it, Jerri, I nearly died from fucking heart failure when Bryan called me.”

  He gets up and starts pacing. “And worse, I couldn’t fucking see you because I was on a goddamn ship in the middle of the ocean. Bryan didn’t call any of your friends because we were worried that they, Yakov’s cronies, could still be watching you. So we hired the PI and his team to look out for you while we tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, if Yakov’s crew had left Boston. It was one big clusterfuck, and the whole time I was drowning, Jerri. Fucking drowning.”

  He spins to look at me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to look at you and not touch you? Do you have any idea how bloody hard it is to watch the light go out in your eyes, to not be able to put it back there? It’s painful, Lass! But while it was killing me inside, all I could think about was you. And if you knew what I was doing, and that I’d been followed, you’d try to run with me, again.”

  I wipe the tears from underneath my eyes and ask, “And you didn’t want me with you. I get it, Locklin.”

  “No, Lass.” He vehemently shakes his head. “You would have followed me to the pits of hell, and I didn’t want that for you. You made a family with your friends at the shop. That’s more than I ever gave you, and if I tore you away from that, I knew you’d hate me. It may not have happened immediately, but it would fucking happen. How could I do that to you? How could I ask you to give up everything for me, again?”

  He sits on the couch and brackets my legs with his arms. “I couldn’t, Jerri, because it’s fucking selfish of me. And I didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s death. I didn’t want to be responsible if you weren’t fuckin’ happy, if you were to wake up one day realizing I wasn’t enough for you.”