Reid was restless. This day with Cassie was the longest one-nighter ever.
Yet he wasn’t satisfied.
It would have been too easy to stay with her.
Something had changed and it wasn’t good. He knew his limitations and reminded himself of them one more time, hearing his father’s voice in his own thoughts.
Reid supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that he ended up at the vacant lot just outside of town. He hadn’t been there in a while, and he figured that was a good thing. He parked where the grasses were shorter, where the drive had once been, and turned off the engine, opening the window to listen.
He thought he could still smell the fire. Maybe he always would.
Worthless.
Reid caught his breath and almost flinched at the flick of a remembered belt.
Lazy.
Good for nothing.
Can’t even run away from home.
You’ll never make anything of yourself.
Just like always, his father, even in memory, ruined everything. Reid closed his eyes at the memory of a bottle smashing, of the sound of his father’s footsteps, of the dread he had lived with for years of his life.
He hadn’t managed to shake it yet. Something bad was coming, always.
It was best to expect the worst.
His father had taught him that—and that the worst could be much much more nasty than he could imagine.
He wouldn’t think of his mom backing away in fear. He wouldn’t dignify that night by reliving it again.
He’d done that enough times already.
Reid got out of the truck, forcing himself to walk to the site where the house had been. His mind was filled with memories and none of them were good. His throat was tight with the recollection of that last phone call. He’d called his father to share the good news of the first offer from an NFL team.
His father had been drunk. He’d been mean, as he was when drunk, insults and obscenities fighting for position in his diatribe. Reid remembered wondering why he’d ever imagined his dad might be glad for him, or proud of him, or give a shit about anything other than himself. When his father told him he’d never see that job or the money, Reid had quietly hung up the phone, his heart heavy.
Then he’d called Marty. He smiled at the recollection. Marty had been like a kid at Christmas. He’d been so excited for Reid. He’d insisted on coming to the next home game, and had driven to the college for it. Reid had introduced him as an uncle and ensured that he had the best time while he was in town.
It had been Marty who had said he was proud of Reid.
It had been Marty who called to tell Reid that his dad had died in a house fire, that he must have fallen asleep smoking, that the house and everything in it was gone forever.
And all Reid had thought was that he was finally free.
His knees had been destroyed at the next game. If he’d been superstitious, he might have thought his father’s ghost had something to do with it, or at least his father’s ill will toward him, but Reid didn’t believe in things he couldn’t see.
It had never been meant to last. It had been a taste of what other people’s lives were like, but he’d known all along that it was just a matter of time before the bubble burst. People like Reid weren’t lucky. Wonderful things didn’t happen to them out of the blue. They didn’t win lotteries or get picked from the studio audience or even have anything go right without a shit-ton of work.
Sometimes not even then.
He looked around the lot, remembering Cassie’s question. Why had he come back to Montrose River? He’d had no home and no family left by then, well, except for Marty, who had been kinder to Reid than anyone other than his mom. He could remember Marty clearly, at least. But Marty was gone, now, and Reid had pretty much done all the good he could do in town.
He always came here hoping to remember more of his mom and the good times, but the night she’d died always took precedence in his memories. His dad, even in death, held the trump card.
Maybe he didn’t deserve to remember her.
Reid wondered if he’d learned to hope for more than was his due. He heard his father in those words and straightened.
It was time to push his father aside.
It was time for a new objective.
A housing developer had made Reid an offer on this piece of land, with the intention of building a community of retirement homes. The developer thought Montrose River would be the perfect location, so old-fashioned, so safe, and yet with so many amenities. Reid had declined the offer, unable to think of sacrificing this touchstone of his past.
This was where his parents had died.
This was where his memory of his mom should be strongest.
But she was elusive here and Reid wondered if he was holding out for something that would never happen. His time with Cassie made him rethink his choice. He wouldn’t see her after this weekend and even if he did cross paths with her again, their interlude would be over. But he could learn from her, from her decision to take on the world. He could give it a try himself.
What if refusing to sell this land was keeping the next level of success from Montrose River? What if it was blocking his recollection of the good times, or of his mom? His father’s influence would probably cling to him forever. He didn’t have to keep the land.
He could let it go.
Maybe a bit of his dad would go with it.
The developer had said to call anytime if he changed his mind.
Reid pulled out his phone and made the call as he got back into his truck. He apologized for calling outside of business hours and heard the pleasure in the man’s voice.
It was time, and he’d realized the truth thanks to Cassie.
In desperation, Cassie called her mom, Emily howling in the background.
It was Ally who answered, but she’d expected that.
“Could you get Mom for me?” she asked.
“No,” Ally said and Cassie thought she was just being difficult. Emily screamed. Cassie tried to rock the baby but it seemed to be only agitating her more. “They went out for dinner,” Ally supplied. “They won’t be back for a while yet.”
Cassie swore. Emily raged.
“Where’s Tori?”
“I said I’d babysit while they went out for dinner. I thought it would be easy,” Cassie admitted, wondering if her sister would hear her over the baby’s cries. “I was so wrong.”
There was a pause, then Ally made a surprising offer. “I could help.”
“Could you?”
“But I’ll do it for Tori and for Emily, not for you.”
Cassie didn’t care. “If you could help, I’ll do anything for you,” she said, hearing her own desperation.
“Careful what you promise, Cassie,” Ally advised in a dark tone. “I’ll be right there.”
It seemed like a million years later, but it was only moments before Ally rang the bell. Cassie hauled open the door before the sound faded, because she’d been waiting right in the foyer. Ally pursed her lips and reached for Emily, lifting the baby into her arms with a tenderness and expertise that surprised Cassie. “Come here, sweetness,” she cooed.
Emily hiccupped into silence, apparently relieved that someone who understood her had finally arrived. Cassie followed her sister toward the nursery, feeling like a dope as Ally eased away Emily’s tears, changed her diaper, then heated a bottle for her. She turned down the lights and sat in the rocker in the corner, feeding Emily quietly.
Cassie leaned in the doorway, watching. “I’m seriously impressed.”
“Who was more upset, you or her?”
“Probably me.” Cassie heaved a sigh. “You want some coffee?”
Actually, what Cassie wanted was alcohol, preferably in large quantities, but she didn’t want to be drunk when Tori and Nick came back.
“No, thanks.”
“Tea? My undying gratitude?”
Ally actually smiled. “Oh, I’ll take that.”
The silence between them was awkward, and Cassie knew they were both watching Emily suckle. Cassie tried to think of something neutral to say. “I hope Jonathan didn’t mind you coming down here on a Friday night like this.”
Ally’s lips pursed. “He wouldn’t, even if he were here.”
She didn’t say more, even though Cassie waited for her to continue. “Where is Jonathan?” she asked, thinking he must be away on business.
She didn’t think Ally was going to answer her. Her sister burped the baby and carried her to the crib, tucking her in then winding the music box. She stared down at Emily for the longest time, then pivoted. Cassie was shocked that her sister’s expression was so stricken.
“He’s in Chicago,” Ally said stiffly, then pushed past Cassie. She didn’t move quickly enough for Cassie to miss that her sister had started to cry.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m your sister.” Cassie held Ally’s gaze, surprised by her hostility. “Because it doesn’t look like you have many other people to tell, and if you’ve told Mom, it’s clearly not helping.”
“Mom can’t help. Neither can you.”
“But I can listen. Mom hasn’t always been so great about that.”
Ally flicked a wary glance her way. Cassie held out a box of tissue, like it was a peace offering. Ally took one, blew, then wiped her eyes. “I guess it can’t hurt,” she said, her tone still hard, then marched to the kitchen and sat down in one of the chairs. She folded her arms across her chest and watched Cassie, her gaze hard.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
The story came out in dribs and drabs, but only after Cassie found a bottle of wine—which had a screw top and dust on it—opened it and poured two generous glasses.
“I shouldn’t,” Ally said.
“Seriously,” Cassie replied. “Mom is living outside your front door for the foreseeable future and thinks your house is still hers. Does she still walk into the bathroom on you, too? Jonathan is in Chicago, and apparently there’s a reason for that, which you don’t want to tell me, but you’re fresh out of potential candidates for exchanging confidences. I’m frazzled from dealing with an irritable baby.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Drink up. I’m going to.”
Her sister didn’t take a sip. “I mean I shouldn’t.”
“Because you’re taking a prescription that doesn’t allow you to drink?”
“Because I might be pregnant.”
“Even if you are, one sip won’t hurt.”
Ally shook her head with resolve. “Wrong.”
Cassie considered her and took a hearty swig of her own wine. It was truly ghastly, but desperate times called for desperate means. At least she wouldn’t be tempted to drink more than one glass—or even to finish the one she’d poured. “So, if you might be pregnant, why does Jonathan being in Chicago make you cry? And why don’t you look happy at all? I thought you wanted to have kids.”
“I do. I did.” Ally shook her head. “I’m just tired of thinking about it all the time.”
“Do you?”
“Yes!” Ally flung out her hands and the words broke free in a torrent. “First, we tried all the time, and I never got pregnant. I went to the doctor and we did a bunch of tests, then we were referred to a fertility clinic, and after that, it really was the only possible topic of discussion for three years.” She glared at Cassie. “Three years. Every month, every week, every day, every hour. What was our status? Had I ovulated? When? Should we try this drug again? That procedure? What’s the next step? How many times do we do that? Testing and timing and thinking about babies babies babies—and the money.” She shoved a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “The money, Cassie. Holy fuck, the money.”
Cassie was astonished. She was pretty sure she’d never heard her sister drop the f-bomb before.
Plus she had no idea about the cost of fertility counseling, never mind that her sister had been going through this.
She took another tentative sip of wine and grimaced. It was too terrible even for desperate times. She put the glass aside. “You could have told me.”
Ally gave her a scathing glance. “I could have called up Ms. Super Success in the big city, the one who has everything she wants, and told her that I couldn’t have the only thing I ever wanted?”
Cassie didn’t point out that she’d always thought that was Jonathan. Things might have changed.
Ally exhaled in a hiss. “The one thing that you never wanted.”
Cassie caught her breath and their gazes locked for a long moment. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but it wasn’t true and she felt like an ass as soon as she said it. Ally glared at her.
“I didn’t know that was what you wanted,” she said instead.
“You could have kept it.”
“No,” Cassie said with resolve. “That was out of the question.”
“Adoption, then.”
“No.” Cassie heard her voice rise. This was supposed to be about her sister sharing her woes, not about delving into her own past. She glared at Ally. “What’s done is done. That’s my past. You’re telling me about Jonathan right now.”
Once again, the air was charged between them, then Ally pursed her lips—looking so much like their mom that Cassie was startled—and continued in a tight voice. “Then we started to fight. First we fought about money, and then we fought about everything else.” She raised a hand. “We bought this house because Jonathan thought it would be the perfect place to raise kids.”
“That’s only because he’s not from around here,” Cassie said and it wasn’t entirely a joke.
Ally didn’t smile.
“I’m guessing he didn’t anticipate that Mom would walk right in, whenever she was in town, as if she still owned the place, then tell you how she was spending the money you’d paid for the house.”
“No,” Ally said fiercely. “So, she did, and he and I fought about it, then I fought with Mom about that.”
“Wait! You told her off?”
“I told her it was a lousy way to be part of the solution, since she wanted grandchildren so badly. And she had just chewed me out for being terse with Jonathan, which she never would have heard if she hadn’t just walked into the house like she still owned it!”
“Rock on, sister!” Cassie gave Ally a high five and tried the wine again to celebrate that momentous event.
Bad decision. It curdled in her gut.
Emily gave a little chortle, undoubtedly disturbed by the volume of their voices, and the sisters shushed each other. They crept to the door of the nursery, arriving on the threshold just as the music box sounded its last notes and fell silent. Cassie held her breath as Ally tiptoed into the room and wound up the music box again. Emily made a snurfling sound, like she was a baby elephant or something, and went back to sleep.
They exhaled in relief as one and returned to the kitchen. Cassie felt the change in the atmosphere between then, and silently thanked Emily for giving them a shared goal.
Ally took a sip of wine, though it wasn’t what made her tone bitter. “And then I stopped working at the library to have less stress and to be able to go wherever whenever for whatever baby-related missions had to be performed.”
“So, there was less money,” Cassie guessed.
Ally nodded. “So, Jonathan took a promotion that required him to be in Chicago half time. He said we needed the money.” She fell silent, turning the glass around and around on the table.
“Wouldn’t that influence your chances of conceiving?” Cassie asked. “I mean, it takes two, right? Or does it still when you’re doing fertility stuff?”
“Depends on the stage you’re at. Separation certainly didn’t help our marriage. We moved from fighting all the time and throwing things at each other to weeks of silence.”
“But still going to fertility counseling.”
“You better fucking believ
e it,” Ally said. “Neither of us wanted to cut bait on all we’d spent so far.”
“You could adopt,” Cassie suggested.
“We decided not to.” Ally frowned. “We talked about it at the beginning. The irony, of course, is that what deterred us from foreign adoption was the cost.” She widened her eyes. “And I wasn’t sure the other options like surrogacy were right for us.”
“That’s fair. They all sound pretty complicated to me.”
“Thanks, Cassie.” Ally fell silent then, watching her fingertip as she drew circles on the table.
Cassie thought about a summer fifteen years before. She knew she’d made the right choice. She still did. There was no other solution that would have worked. But she watched her sister hurt and understood exactly why Ally hated her so much. She’d had the only thing Ally wanted and she’d gotten rid of it. It hadn’t been easy, even given the circumstances, and she was still haunted by her choice, but anything else would have condemned that child.
“So, where are you now?” she asked finally.
Ally sighed. “Jonathan was home about a month ago. He said he was going to move out and just stay in Chicago for good. We talked about getting a divorce. It was sad, you know, kind of bittersweet, like we’d tried to make it work and failed all the same.” She blinked back her tears. “And we made love. It was sweet and wonderful, because we both knew it would be the last time ever.” She bit her lip. “It was Sunday morning when he left. I pretended to be asleep when he got up because I just didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I felt him watching me, and then he kissed my shoulder. He whispered that he’d always love me and then he left.”
“You didn’t say anything to him?”
“I just wanted to hold on to that moment forever,” Ally said, her tears flowing in earnest now. “I was wishing there was a way to turn back time and do it all over again, make different mistakes maybe. But then he was gone and the divorce papers came, just as we’d agreed, and I decided to tell Mom and get that over with. And I told myself that I was good with it, that we’d be adults and move on and be happy, that there was someone else out there for both of us and that we were making the responsible choice.”
Some Guys Have All the Luck Page 14