by S. E. Hall
My hold on Cannon’s hand turns quickly to a vice grip. “You’ve met Laura? And her kids?” I ask, every effort to taper my voice that wants to scream.
“All the time, silly. She’s nice and pretty.”
I look over to Rhett, then Jarrett. Neither of them have moved a muscle or made a peep since Conner said he wanted to go, taking all this in alongside me, much like they’ve done our whole lives. I know they’re going through the same range of emotions I am, living it firsthand with me.
Rhett must sense the end of my road, that I have no idea what more to say, so he comes to sit across from Conner. “Con, look at me buddy.” Conner does so instantly and Rhett gives him a reassuring smile. “Do you like Laura and her kids?”
“Yes, a lot.”
“And they’re nice to you?”
“Very, very nice. Why?”
Rhett chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. “Just wondering. And your dad, Conner, is your dad nice to you?”
I stiffen, Cannon squeezing my shoulder.
“Yes, but not nice as Alma and Laura. He screams in his phone and slams the door, but then he says he’s sorry and plays Monopoly with us. I am the bomb. I always, always win.”
My father apologizes and plays Monopoly? Since fucking when?
Since he’s been luring in Laura, that’s when.
I look up and instantly get angry at the pity in Rhett’s eyes. I don’t need goddamn fake ass family game nights—my family isn’t all here, on this Earth—kinda impossible. If I even liked Monopoly, which I don’t.
“Bubs,” I touch his arm so he’ll focus on me, “do you want me to call your dad and tell him you’ll go?”
“Yes.”
“On a long trip with—”
“Yes.”
“Him and Laura and her kids?”
“Yessss!” he yells. “Want me to get you a present, Sister?”
“Sure.” I stand, daring the sniffle I can feel to make a sound lest I kick its ass. “Okay Bubs, I’ll go call him.”
I reach back without looking for Cannon’s hand and instantly he takes it, saying nothing as I pull him into Conner’s bedroom with me. He shuts the door as I get situated on the bed, then he joins me, wrapping me in his arms, rocking us back and forth in soothing rhythm as he kisses my head.
Chapter 19
“Tell me something you need, something that makes you feel weak to admit.”
“Approval.” His sigh brushes warmly along the back of my neck. “Even if I’m hell bent on an idea or plan, I feel better about it if my parents, my sister, you,” he nuzzles further into me, “approve. It’s actually scary in a way, being reliant on what other people may think. Luckily, it only applies to a select few for me. The rest can kiss my ass.” He laughs. “Why do you ask?”
I turn to him, laying my cheek against his chest while I fiddle with the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I need you here, with me, while I call my father. But I’ve always done it alone before, so I feel stupid, weak. Now that I know,” brave inhale, “how much easier things are when I have you, I don’t want to go back.” A frustrated, embarrassed howl escapes me as I try to escape his hold, to run and hide from vulnerable honesty, but he’s faster. I’m instantly pinned to the bed, flat on my back, a heavy breathing Cannon looming over me.
“Love when my Lizzie comes out,” he growls, something sinister yet tender flashing in his darkening brown eyes before he dips to my neck. “Gonna be right here,” he drags his tongue up to my ear, tracing the outside with its pointed tip, “nowhere I’d rather be. But I sense you’re wound a little tight, maybe you should release some tension first, on me,” he teases, his voice a sultry, deep taunt.
“Come here,” I whisper, luring him to my mouth with only my request, since he has my hands captured.
“What is it, beauty?” he asks against my lips.
Slowly, I outline his plump mouth with my tongue, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m not gonna get busy on my brother’s bed, Horny Henderson. Down boy.” I laugh, declining both him and the pulsing erection poking me.
“I am gonna love making you pay for that, Siren.” He nips at my chin and rolls off me, both of us then sitting up.
I’m ready to make the call, my spirit floating adrift on Cannon; nothing or no one can bring me down. I press my father’s number, on speaker, holding Cannon’s silent, supportive gaze as it rings.
“Elizabeth,” he answers in his ever dignified voice.
“Richard,” I respond as stoically, using his first name for perhaps the first time ever.
“His name is actually Dick?” Cannon sorta mouths, more whispers, with wide, laughing eyes.
I nod and slap a hand over my giggle.
“Elizabeth, I assume you had a reason for calling?” Ugh, he’s still there.
“Yes.” I clear my throat and reaffirm my confident posture. “I understand you’ve got a new family of Monopoly connoisseurs and want Conner to partake in two weeks of Leave It to Beaver Hawaiian bliss with you?” I couldn’t have summed up every resentment better if I tried. Even my sophisticatedly bitter tone was perfection.
His sharp, hissing inhale is audible over the line, as tangible as Cannon’s flinch beside me. “Elizabeth,” he drones, something weird, unknown happening in his voice, “honey, I think it’s high time you and I had a sit down.”
I barely have the wits about me to pull the phone away from me and stare at it, double checking I have the right number. Who the fuck is this “honey” of which he blathers? “Richard, if you’re high right now, I can call back.”
“And she bites,” he mumbles. “I don’t have a new family, Elizabeth, I have more family. All of whom would be delighted to get to know you, along with your brother. Would you like to join us on the trip? Anytime? Dinner, perhaps?”
“I know what you’re doing!” I scream, my hand shaking so badly that Cannon peels the phone from me one clenched finger at a time and holds it, his free hand rubbing up and down my back. “You need your campaign banner picture, that’s all! Speaking of pictures, did you throw mine against the wall, when mom caught you with some whore?”
Fabulous—I lost my temper and showed my hand.
“I probably did. I won’t claim to be a good husband, Elizabeth. I was unfaithful, many times, and I will forever be sorry. And I was a shameful father, absent and emotionally distant. For that, I’m even sorrier. But the other ideas, the resentments you harbor? They’re unfounded, and frankly, far crueler than my shortcomings.”
“You’re a fucking demon! You hurt Conner, tried to kill him, ruined his life, and drove my mother to suicide! On what planet is my hatred worse than that?”
I flinch, hearing the door bang open from behind me, and snap my mouth closed. When I dare turn my head, I meet the frightened, worried eyes of Conner, Rhett, and Jarrett, all huddled in the doorway, Cannon doing his best to reassure and shoo them away.
“Did my son just hear that outburst?”
Cannon takes it off speaker and hands me the phone, a look of pity and disappointment on his face.
“Let’s go.” He ushers the others out and pulls the door closed, leaving me in shameful isolation. I can’t mourn the loss; I’d forced his attention to bigger needs.
“Yes,” I croak, “but he’s gone now.”
“Elizabeth, all I’ve done, or haven’t done, right or wrong, I have never laid a hand on your brother.”
“THEN WHO DID??”
He’s back. The lock clicks seconds before I’m wrapped up from all sides, his strong arms, long legs, broad chest each doing their part to protect me. “In for me,” he whispers, “come on, big one in for me.”
“Conner? Son?”
“No sir, not Conner. She needs a minute,” Cannon tells him. “Now out for me, love,” he once again says softly, only to me.
“Rhett? Is she all right?”
“I’m sorry I left, had to settle Conner. But I’m back,” he kisses below my ear. “I’m here.”
I heave
in and out, my breathing labored with anger, yes, but also fear—have I gone from irrationally self-sufficient to helplessly reliant on Cannon? Fuck that. “Richard,” I compose myself, “are you going to answer me?”
“No, Elizabeth, I’m not. Never let it be said that I speak out of turn.”
I saw that cop-out, talk out the side of your mouth bullshit coming before I was done asking the question. I roll my eyes, exhausted, as I always find myself talking to him. “Conner would like to go with you. We’re in Nebraska. You can come get him, you, with Alma, or I’ll bring him to you when I can. And Richard? If one hair on his head is out of place, or you don’t bring him back to me on time, there’ll be no safe place for you.”
Cannon nudges me, a disapproving frown and shake of his head.
“When will you be back in Ohio?” he asks with an inconvenienced huff.
“When’s your trip?”
“We’re supposed to leave Tuesday.”
Five days from now, three of which we have gigs, doable… “Probably not gonna happen,” I tut back, my inner brat fist pumping. Inner. Lord knows Cannon would chastise me with that scowly brow of his if I actually did it.
“Where in Nebraska?”
“Lincoln.”
“I’ll head out as soon as I can. Please answer your phone, Elizabeth. I’ll need your exact location when I get there.”
I can hardly speak past my utter astonishment. “You’re actually gonna come get him, all by yourself?”
“No, per your instructions, Alma will be accompanying me. If it’s all right with you, I could bring Laura as well. Perhaps you’d like to meet her?”
“Hell no, I don’t want to meet your f—”
“We’ll wait for your call, sir. See you and Alma soon,” Cannon interrupts me, hitting “end call” the second he finishes the sentence.
I’m about to give him another Pretty Woman lesson—the “I saw when” part! “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I say, my voice as scathing as I can manage, scooting away from him.
He demolishes that space in one fell swoop, plastering his body to mine, bracketing me in at my sides. “I’m stopping the incredibly sad display of you making an ass of yourself. I get that you’re angry, and resentful, and scared,” he glides his knuckles down my cheek, “and all that’s understandable. But you’re not hateful and venomous, so stop trying so hard to act like it. And,” he lays his fingers across my lips to hush my retort, “I will gladly eat your pussy and pay your bills, so I do get a say.” He winks.
I couldn’t now tell you why I was mad at him only five seconds ago if my life truly depended on it. His scandalous turning of my back on me have a direct, searing link to the currently throbbing spot between my legs. I lick my lips, searching for how to respond, when he leans in and wets them for me. “You like the thought of that, don’t ya?” he hums, a deep, delicious sound.
I must nod, or maybe I answered, who knows…certainly not lust-crazed me, because he laughs softly and kisses me. “Me too, angel, me too. Soon, I promise you, very soon I will cherish every single part of you with every single part of me.”
My gulp echoes in the room, giving away my nervousness. The only thing I’m certain of is that my three-minute tryst with Rhett years ago did not prepare me for Cannon Blackwell, and I will surely disappoint him. “Let’s, uh,” I squirm back from him, “let’s go tell Conner and get ready for tonight’s show.”
“Hey,” he latches onto my wrist, halting my exit, “what just happened?”
“Nothing,” I say to the door rather than him.
“Nooo, it was definitely something. I look forward to coercing it out of you.”
***
The talk with Conner went…loud. He screamed and jumped around, absolutely thrilled, at which I plastered on a grin.
I feel like Sybil, one version of myself relieved and truly happy to have such obvious reassurance that he enjoys being with our father, completely unafraid, one of the other Lizzies worried sick and still not trusting the sperm-donating asshole any farther than I could bury him in the ground, and yet another one of my personalities confused and kinda jealous…without a father to love.
I’ve been hiding in the bathroom long enough under the guise of “getting ready,” so I suck it up, squashing all Lizzies, and join everyone in the common area.
“This cannot possibly be the right place. I think I spotted Boo Radley on a porch back there,” Jarrett glances out the window, skeptic frown.
“Just because his name was Boo doesn’t mean he was scary,” Cannon comments with a chuckle. “Quite the opposite, in fact. And they lived in a nice neighborhood.”
I catch Cannon’s eye and give him a flirty smile; by now I’d be more surprised if he hadn’t read my all-time favorite book. I’ve also quit tracking “points.” He wins the whole Lizzie enchilada—if he wants it.
“Bubs, you don’t need your bag tonight. Dad won’t be here yet; it’s a long drive from Ohio. How about you put it back in your room?”
Even though I just finished analyzing myself and told all the voices in my head to shut the hell up, one observation and all the questions are back full-force. Cannon’s taught me so much about instinct and intuition, opened my eyes to optimism and daring to dream, that I simply can’t keep it turned off. So, as I look at Conner, clutching that bag like a life vest, giddy with anticipation at our father’s arrival…I wonder.
Admittedly, I consider Conner my ace “people reader,” my gauge of people’s auras that somehow Bubs always sees. He doesn’t hate our father, not even a little bit, and he’s far from afraid to be with him—that’s trying to tell me something, an option I’ve been resistant to for years, now an inkling that I need to follow. I have to put my finger on this lest it drive me insane.
“You said he was coming,” Conner pouts, puffing out his bottom lip.
“He is, just not tonight. We’ll do the show, go to bed, and maybe late tomorrow, he’ll be here.”
Bruce finally manipulates the huge bus into the back parking lot of the venue. After a quick glance out the window, I find myself agreeing with Jarrett—it gives off a serious heebie jeebie vibe. “This is it,” Bruce says and emerges from the cab, volleying his gaze between Conner, gloomy mood palpable, and the rest of us. “Con, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not getting off this bus ‘cause my Dad can find me here.” He crosses his arms on top of the duffle in his lap. “Sister told him too long cause she screamed at him. I heard her.”
“Conner, look at me.” I’m in front of him in a flash, on my own knees, my hands on his. “I swear to you, Bubs, I didn’t tell him wrong. I know you’re excited to go, and I want you to have fun. I promise, I didn’t tell him too long. Con?”
“Did she, Cannon?” he asks him, needing verification of my word. That’s never happened and it hurts worse than anything I can remember.
“Conner, has your sister ever lied to you before?” Cannon challenges him kindly.
“No,” he mumbles.
“So why would she lie to you now, bud?”
“Cause she hates my dad.”
“She loves you, very much. She wouldn’t lie to you.”
I wipe my tears, grateful for Cannon’s support but crushed all the same. The other three look on in silence, the tension in the air almost as thick as the lump in my throat. “Time to go,” I stand and mutter, pulling down my skirt that’d ridden up. “Bruce, can you stay on the bus with Conner?”
He answers only with an affirmative jerk of his head and I grab my stuff, heading to the door.
“See you after, Bubs, love you.”
His lack of reply twists the knife in my gut deeper.
Chapter 20
“I’m sorry, Sister.” His apologetic, sweet little face pops into my bunk, waking me.
“No worries, Bubs.” I push the covers back—obviously time to get up. “Wanna do something just me and you today, before you leave?”
“Yes, I do. Can we eat Cannon’s panca
kes before we go ice skating?”
I laugh; guess I’m going ice skating after some delicious pancakes I now smell. “Sure we can. Lemme get up and run to the bathroom. Meet ya there.”
“Everyone, we’re going ice skating!” he screams and I cringe—needing coffee urgently and I wanted it to be just him and me. He’s about to leave me for two weeks, eons longer than we’ve been apart for close to a decade. My heart aches just thinking about it. I miss him already.
“I got a cab for you guys in thirty minutes, so eat up.” Cannon winks at me as I sit down and pushes my plate in front of me. “So, a buddy of mine tracked me down. Wants to know if we can fit in a stop at his bar when we pass through? He just opened it, needs promo or whatever.” He pops his shoulders and pours me a coffee. “Told him I’d ask.”
I’m still stuck at “we pass through.” That didn’t sound like plans to jump ship to me. Swallowing down pancakes and anxious hope, I muster up aloofness. “He in Indiana? Whereabouts?”
“Yeah, in Brownsberg, right by my hometown. I figure we’ll be there by Monday night. We could do it then, or Tuesday, if we don’t have anything else booked. Might help him bring in business. He’s a good friend, it’d be cool to be able to help him out.”
“I’m a good friend,” Bubs interjects through a mouthful of pancakes.
“You sure are.” Cannon gives him a fist bump, which Conner “blows up” as animatedly as possible, pieces of breakfast now flying out his mouth.
“We’re open Monday or Tuesday!” Rhett yells from his bunk.
Cannon’s gaze drops down as he kneads the back of his neck with one hand, rubbing nervously at his bare chest—I have long-since 100% decided never to buy him a shirt—with the other. “Can we do both nights? Don’t you have to get home to Ohio?”
“For what?” I ask. “Conner’ll be gone.”
“I don’t know, your house, pets, whatever. Don’t wanna pit stop?” His brow creases more by the second, clearly perplexed.
“No home, no pets—”
“Hey! We got fish!” Conner reminds me.
“Oh yeah,” I chuckle, “the fish. Okay, so just no home.”