Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two

by Taylor Sullivan

  Her little head was nestled right under his chin, and his hand rested on the small of her back, their breathing deep and even, in complete sync with one another. I could feel my emotion building again, and tucked my feet under my body to push myself from the ground.

  I looked to the house, where the sounds of laughter and merriment filtered through the cool air, then turned around and began walking in the opposite direction to the woods. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I needed a few moments alone to find peace with myself.

  Chapter THIRTY

  John

  Twenty four years earlier

  I tucked my legs under my body and pressed my ear to the floor. The tile was sticky and cool beneath my cheek, but I closed my eyes and practiced my ABC’s inside my head like he told me to. Maybe he wouldn’t find me here. Maybe he would forget about me and finally get so tired he’d fall asleep.

  SLAM!

  The sounds of something shattering against the wall jolted my body. It was so close I could feel the impact through the floor. I pulled my legs in tighter, wanting so badly to disappear. But as hard as I prayed, it never happened. God never came to save me when my daddy behaved like this. I cracked my eyes open and peered through the gap between the couch and floor.

  Maybe that lady would come back, she could find his keys, and he would be happy again. Or maybe they would go into the bedroom, and he’d forget about me. Sometimes, if I was quiet enough, he would forget he was so thirsty, forget he was mad at me for all the things I did. I squeezed my eyes harder, pretending glue had stuck them together like two pieces of paper.

  More slams echoed through the walls, and even though my arms and legs were shaking, I didn’t cry like I wanted to. I couldn’t. Shhh… Be quiet. Be quiet or he’ll hear you.

  “JOHNNY! Where are you?” His angry voice growled like a monster, echoing against the walls and through the floor. The couch shifted as he sat on the cushions, squeezing my bones as his weight pressed on my hiding place. A small sound came out of my mouth, and I quickly covered it with my hand. But it was too late.

  “JOHNNY! Is that you?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as tears fell to my cheeks, sneaking past the imaginary layer of glue. The couch shifted again, and I wrapped my hand around the welt on my arm still burning from the last time he was mad at me.

  He looked down at me, swaying slightly with his hands on his hips. “I’ve found you Johnny, and now you’re going to find my keys.”

  Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  Tuesday

  I pressed my back against a giant oak tree and let my head lull, until the hard, rocky bark could be felt against my scalp. What the hell am I doing?

  I closed my eyes, filling my lungs with cool, moisture-laden air, wishing so badly that this day was over. Because the words I needed to say were still heavy on my chest, suffocating me, filling my veins with trepidation, and I needed them out. I needed to be able to breathe again, and somehow putting the distance between us made that easier. Somehow, alone in the woods, I could breathe.

  The lights of the cabin glowed faintly in the distance, but I couldn’t see the blankets any longer, nor John and Shelly, who I was sure were still resting peacefully under the large tree. I didn’t know how far I’d gone; all I knew was that it wasn’t far enough. But no distance or time could separate me from what I needed to do. Running would only prolong the inevitable and cause more pain. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  I lowered myself to the ground, digging my fingers into the earth and pulling in deep slow breaths. It was dusk now, and off on the horizon, the sun was making its descent into the dark, stormy night. The combination of darkness and light was breathtakingly beautiful. The sky held me captive with a vibrant show of magenta, violet, and orange, a show just for me.

  I knew I should go back because I’d been gone at least fifteen minutes, and I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. But I needed this. I needed to ground myself for a few minutes longer. To go back to my roots where things weren’t so complicated and set my mind free.

  I thought about Lisa’s words in the cabin, about the glimpse of a wounded man I’d seen so many times but couldn’t place. It all fit now. The scar on his chin wasn’t from a fall from a tree; it came from a darker place. A place I wasn't sure I wanted to know about and was sure I didn’t deserve to hear.

  My hands played with the moistened soil of the forest floor, crunching bits of fallen leaves with my fingers. Somewhere along the way fate, had brought him here. To this family, whose love and warmth could be felt even from so far away. I placed my hand on my belly, feeling the slight curve that told me my baby was growing.

  The first roll of thunder sounded off in the distance, breaking my mind free. I opened my eyes, and there, not five feet in front of me I saw John’s name, carved into the trunk of a tree. It was drawn by a child, darkened by time and weather, and I pulled myself to my knees and crawled toward it, my breaths coming faster.

  I traced each letter with my finger, as a sense of something bigger than myself ran over my body. Out of all the trees in the entire forest, I had stopped at the one that led me back to him. To the man I loved so deeply it hurt.

  For the last four days, I never once considered that he might want this baby. That he’d be able to see past the fact that it wasn’t his, that he would listen to me, hear my answer, and be able to love me anyway. My chin quivered. The thought was terrifying, but maybe it was possible.

  Another crash of thunder boomed closer, and I knew I had to go back. I flattened my hand on his name, feeling the scars of his boyhood scrawled beneath my palm. I pushed myself from the ground, and using the cabin’s lights as a beacon, I trudged through the leafy ground back to the house. I only made it a few feet before a fat drop of rain landed on my cheek like a tear. I pushed a branch away from my face and picked up my pace, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the storm was directly overhead.

  A sliver of light was all that remained of the sun on the hilltops, making it increasingly hard to see, but I had lots of practice running through the wilderness. When the clouds opened up, releasing all the rain they had been storing up all day, I only ran faster until I pushed my way through to the clearing.

  I found the blankets John and Shelly had been sleeping on empty and made my way to the back porch. My hair was completely drenched and stuck to my skin, but for some reason, it felt wonderful, almost cleansing, washing me of the guilt I’d been carrying around for the past four days.

  “TUESDAY!” The sound of John’s voice boomed as the first crack of lightning appeared in the sky.

  “John, I’m here!” I hurried up the steps, turning in the direction of his voice but stopped as he came into view around the corner. He was still twenty feet away, but I could see the relief on his face, the largeness of his body, and took it all in.

  “Where were you?” he yelled across to me.

  I grinned, suddenly filled with joy at the sight of his face. “Watching the sunset!” My foot slipped on the top step, causing both of my feet to jet out in front of me, and my bottom to land hard on the wood step.

  He ran toward me, sinking to his knees in a puddle of rain. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I laughed, taking hold of his arms as he pulled me to stand. “Just wet.”

  I found my feet again, and he grabbed me around my waist and lifted me up. I slipped again.

  He caught me under my arms, laughing, and lifted me up for the second time. “I got you.”

  My face was plastered to his chest and I smiled up at him. “Why is it so slippery?”

  He grinned then guided me a couple of steps to the left and pushed my hair from my face. “It’s just that spot. It’s been like that as long as I can remember.”

  I looked down at the floor, holding onto the banister to test my traction before letting go. “My God, it’s like ice.” I smiled up at him, gathering my hair to the side of my neck to wring the water from it with both hands. His face wa
s relaxed, but there was something there I’d never seen before. “What?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “When I woke up you were gone. I got worried.”

  I breathed in, taking in the sight of him every bit as drenched as me.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked.

  I looked over my shoulder, in the direction of the woods, where the sun was now completely gone. “I just wanted to see where you grew up.”

  He took my glasses from my face and dried them as best he could before replacing them. “Did you find anything interesting?”

  I nodded. “I found you.”

  His forehead wrinkled with confusion, and I shook my head. “I found your name. Out there. On a tree trunk.”

  He smiled then. “You did?” His nose wrinkled, and a content expression softened his face. “That was the year Grandpa gave me my first pocket knife. I think I carved it into every surface I could get my hands on.”

  I smiled at him, even though I was shivering, and I never wanted this conversation to end. I wanted to stand here with him all night and learn about his past. I wanted to ask him why he lied to me about his scar, and what happened to him that landed him here with this family. But at the same time, I didn’t want to ruin this moment.

  I wanted to stay just like this, the storm blocking out the others inside the cabin, leaving us in seclusion, and never having to face tomorrow. “Did you see the sunset?” I asked, not wanting to let him go.

  He shook his head and tucked my hair behind my ear. “No.”

  “It was beautiful.”

  His hand moved along my neck, and he lowered down until his lips hovered just above mine. “I bet I know something prettier.” His face came lower still, until his soft lips touched mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. It was gentle and sweet, but it told me how much he cared for me, and I never wanted to forget it.

  He took my hand then and pulled me in the direction of the back door. “Come on, we need to get back, everyone’s waiting.”

  “Oh God, are you serious?”

  He looked over his shoulder and nodded to me. “Yes.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?”

  He dropped my hand just outside the front door and began removing his jacket. “Because I was having too much fun.” He took the jacket and looped it over my shoulders, pulling it snug around my chest. “Here, wear this.”

  My brows furrowed. “Why? It’s just as wet as I am.”

  He bent down low, whispering softly in my ear. “’Cause your t-shirt’s white.”

  My eyes went wide and he turned around to open the front door.

  “I found her!” John yelled, causing cheers to sound from inside the cabin. My cheeks flooded with warmth as I stepped inside, clutching the jacket to my chest—mortified, but at the same time, content because I was with John.

  Chapter THIRTY-TWO

  Tuesday

  “Here, I think this should fit.” Lucy, John’s mother held up a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that had a picture of a crockpot on the front. She made a face then handed them over. “Sorry, they were my mother’s. Unfortunately, it’s all the clothing we have up here anymore.”

  I smiled and clutched them to my chest, already loving John’s grandmother for her eccentric taste in clothing. “Thank you, they’re perfect.”

  “Hardly,” she said, looking over at John with a grin. “What were you two up to, anyway? It’s crazy out there.” She shook her head, not waiting for an answer before she turned around and continued looking through the closet.

  John turned to me and raised his eyebrows suggestively, making me hyper-aware of my still see-through t-shirt.

  I clutched the neck of his jacket tighter and gave him a look. “Well, I’m just glad you have something for me to change into. Anything’s better than this wet mess.”

  But John started shaking his head slowly, making it very clear that he didn’t agree.

  His mom opened the other side of the closet, completely unaware of our silent conversation. She looked back to John again. “Now you, on the other hand, are going to be the difficult one.”

  He laughed, reaching out to pull me against his side. “Don’t worry about me, Mom, I’ll be fine.”

  “Nonsense,” she muttered, continuing to push more clothing down the long rack.

  John’s hand inched up the small of my back as we watched his mother pass one sweater after another down the closet, and before I knew what he was doing, his hand had found its way into the gap in my overalls, and was making its descent down toward my underwear. I turned to face him, widening my eyes to silently tell him to knock it off, but he only gave me the most mischievous smile I’d ever seen and hooked his thumb in the elastic of my panties.

  I stepped away, moving a good foot to the side, but he pulled me right back and bent down to whisper in my ear. “If she doesn’t leave soon, I’m going to have to take you in the bathroom and have my way with you. I don’t even care that my whole family is right downstairs.”

  I stomped on his foot, letting him know I didn’t think this was funny at all. He then looked down to his wrist, as if checking the time on his imaginary watch and mouthed the words. “Thirty seconds.”

  I swallowed and turned back to the closet, feeling like a giddy teenager who was about to do the naughtiest thing of her life.

  His mom finally stopped at a dark, gray sweater with the initials UCLA written on the front, and pulled it out of the closet. “Here,” she said. “I think this is yours anyway.” She clutched her chin, thinking. “I don’t think I have any pants, though.”

  His thumb gave a slight tug on my underwear. “I don’t need pants,” he said, and I closed my eyes as tight as I could.

  “Okay, well, I’ll leave you two to change then.”

  I opened my eyes again, finding her grinning as she closed the closet. “I have to go get the pies out of the oven, but you guys come down and eat when you’re done.”

  I nodded then grabbed a pillow off the bed and hit him with it. He bit his lip, grabbed me by the hips, and pulled me forward until our bodies collided, and his lips pressed into my hair. “You’re adorable when you’re angry, you know that?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re horrible!”

  He grinned and lifted his eyebrows. “You’re freaking hot when you’re wet, too. I don’t think I can stand it any longer.” He pushed me backward until the tops of my thighs hit the mattress of the bed.

  “Whose room is this?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to the four-poster bed.

  “My parents’.”

  I shook my head, pushing at his chest. “I’m not having sex with you in your parents’ bedroom.”

  “It’s okay. They won’t mind.”

  I laughed, letting him push me back on the bed. “Your whole family is downstairs,” I whispered.

  “It’s raining,” he stated, before dipping his head down again to kiss my neck. As if that was all the answer I needed.

  “So?”

  He continued kissing me. “They won’t hear a thing. Trust me.” Then he handed me a pillow. “On second thought. Use this.”

  I laughed out loud, pulling at his drenched clothing so I could feel his skin. “What are you trying to say?”

  He laughed. “You’re loud.” He kissed my neck. “Hot.” He kissed my collarbone. “And sexy as hell.”

  I grinned from ear to ear then pushed at his shoulders until he rolled to his back. “I’m still not having sex with you in your parents’ bedroom.”

  He groaned, letting his head fall back to the mattress as I climbed off the bed.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as I walked across the room.

  “To the bathroom. To change.”

  “Change here. I want to watch you.”

  I shook my head, grinning. “Not a chance.”

  He stuck his bottom lip out and sat up on the edge of the bed, sulking like a little boy who was just told he couldn’t play with his favorite toy any lo
nger. “Why?”

  “’Cause I don’t think I’d be able to resist you when I’m naked.” I looked at the pillow beside him on the bed. “And that’s not enough insulation.”

  I slipped into the bathroom, grinning before I shut the door behind me. The sound of John’s groans could be heard through the walls.

  One more night. Just one more night and then I’d tell him. One more night to play with him, and love him, and make love with him.

  I set the powder blue sweats on the vanity, removed his soaking jacket, and hung it up on the towel rack. Then I took a seat on the toilet and unsnapped my overalls. So wet and heavy, they were completely plastered to my legs. I began tugging at the fabric, inching them slowly down my legs. Deciding to take my panties too, I pushed them down to my ankles then stopped.

  My breath caught, and I covered my mouth to suppress a scream. On my panties was blood. Bright red and unmistakable.

  I blinked, hoping it was just my imagination that the light was funny, that I was seeing things, but it didn’t go away. My eyes filled with tears and I blinked harder, taking longer and longer before opening them again, but every time, it was still there. I was bleeding. I was pregnant and I was bleeding. I remembered the words Dr. Kim spoke when she’d told me the news: that some women bled early in pregnancy. But it did nothing to comfort me. I hadn’t bled in nearly seven weeks; why would I start bleeding again now?

  I wrapped my arms around my belly and began to rock back and forth, prayed to God to let me wake up. Then my mind flashed to earlier that evening, to me running through the forest back to the house, to climbing up the steps and falling. My lips began to quiver, and I shook my head. I fell so hard. I didn’t even think about the baby when I did it. I was irresponsible, and I fell, and I hurt my baby.