Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  My best friend's words are harsh but ultimately, she’s right. My only choice is to put this behind me and the sooner I do it, the sooner I'll stop hurting.

  "I just can't believe I fell so fast. And so hard. I can't believe I threw caution to the wind. After what happened with Zayn...I should have known to be more careful." I exhale unsteadily.

  Faith strokes my hair. "I'm just glad that you're back in touch with your feelings. For a while there, you refused to even acknowledge that you liked him."

  I laugh bitterly. "And some good it did me. I just ended up with a broken heart. Again."

  Chapter 31

  Reuben

  “Sir, can I get you anything before we take off?”

  I frown up at the perky blonde hovering over me but she just smiles widely with that red-lacquered mouth of hers. “No,” I grumble bringing my eyes back to the documents in front of me.

  “Maybe you’d like to see our wine list?”

  “No!”

  She jumps, startled, and the passengers around me glare disapprovingly. Now, I fucking feel bad.

  “Sorry.”

  With a curt nod and a tight-lipped smile, she turns to the person on the other side of the aisle.

  I know I was an asshole to that girl. She didn’t deserve it. She was just doing her job of catering to the first-class passengers on this flight.

  But, here’s the problem; I don’t want to be on this flight to begin with. And I don’t want to be reviewing the documents sitting in front of me. I should be in bed with Isla, inhaling the sweetness of her hair and stealing the warmth of her skin as she reads out loud to me from one of her woo-woo spiritual books and I pretend to understand what the hell she’s talking about.

  Instead, I’m flying to Denver and rushing straight to the hospital where my bone-headed brother is lying on the brink of death. Instead, I’m reading this Withdrawal of Life Support documentation and the Living Will that says I’m the one who gets to choose whether he lives or dies.

  It isn’t fair that I have to make this decision. But it’s just like Ryan to tie me up in some shit I want no part of. My brother is a mess. He always has been. All his life he’s jumped from one debacle to the next.

  But this…? It’s a matter of life or death and he’s placed the decision squarely on my shoulders.

  Griffin had a car sent for me and as soon as I land, it whisks me off to Saint John Hospital. I’m halfway down the main hallway of the Marquette Intensive Care Wing when I pause, turn back and head for the washrooms. I'm not ready to deal with this shit. I splash my face with water and lean over the sink, gripping the edge of the counter.

  This is gonna be so fucked up.

  I haven't talked to the guy in months and now, I have to decide whether he lives or dies.

  Just as I’m wiping my hands and face with the rough brown paper towel, one of the stall doors swings open and out walks my father, Harvey Marquette in the flesh. We both freeze and stare at each other in the mirror.

  I hate that I have his chin and his forehead. I hate that my nostrils flare the way his do when I’m angry. I hate everything about him. But in that moment, all I notice is how red and swollen his eyes are and how his jaw trembles. That’s when I realize just how grave the situation must be. If Harvey Marquette pressed pause on his plan for global domination for long enough to visit the bedside of his prodigal son, it must be really bad.

  He draws a deep breath. Then, he approaches the sink and slowly washes his hands. When he reaches across to me, I pull two sheets of brown paper from the dispenser and hand them to him. He wipes his hands and then his eyes.

  His hand clasps on my shoulder and it's like I understand what he's saying even without him uttering a word. He knows that I don't want to be here. He knows that this is some hard shit. But he's telling me to man up and get it done. He guides me through the corridor toward my brother’s room. When he pushes the door open, he leads me past my mother and Griffin.

  I find myself hovering over Ryan’s hospital bed, staring down into his swollen, battered face. And I lose my shit.

  Chapter 32

  Reuben

  Griffin comes up behind me, stretching a cup of coffee my way. “You okay, man?” He leans against the wall as I set the cup down on the windowsill overlooking the hospital's snow-covered grounds.

  I nod solemnly, slowly. I’d never expected to react the way I did to seeing Ryan lying there, helpless on life support. But looking at him, it was like staring down into my own battered, disfigured face. All these months, I’d worked so hard to convince myself that I hated him and now that he’s fighting for his life, I’m just wondering if maybe, somehow I can finally forgive him for what he did.

  Griffin glances over at the chair where our mother is sitting quietly by her favorite son’s bedside, singing old folk songs to him. “Did mom decide...?”

  "Mom doesn't get to decide," I remind him defensively. "He put me down as his legal conservator. I decide." Who knew that my reckless, irresponsible younger brother had a will set up? Even I don't have a will.

  Griffin eyes me warily. "So, what are you gonna do?" He asks in a slow, careful tone. He knows very well that I haven't been a fan of Ryan's for a long time. But to think that I would terminate his life support just to get back at him. Come on!

  "We're not pulling that plug," I growl. "He doesn't get to just die after all the shit he's caused. He deserves a chance to come back and clean up his fucking mess." My jaw sets.

  "He suffered a severe traumatic brain injury, Reuben. At this point, it doesn't matter what we want. What matters is what's best for him. What's realistic for him. You know that he wouldn't want to spend the next forty years as a vegetable."

  The doctors aren't very optimistic. My brother sustained serious head injuries in that bar fight in Atlantic City. Whoever attacked him showed no mercy. He's receiving the best care here at St. John's but he still might die. And if he doesn't, he could easily spend the rest of his life unable to accomplish even the simplest tasks without assistance.

  I'd rather focus on the slim possibility that he'll be just fine. That's what Isla would do.

  I shake my head. "We're not letting that bastard die. We'll wait for the brain swelling to go down. Then, he'll wake up."

  "It's not that simple. If he doesn't show improvement after three days—"

  I cut him off. "If he doesn't show improvement after three days, then we'll wait!"

  "Reuben..." Griffin exhales my name. He knows that he can't make me change my mind.

  This is all so overwhelming. I wish that I was with Isla right now. That I was filling her body. That I was fusing my soul with hers.

  I fucking miss that girl.

  I have no doubt that hearing her talk about how important her sister is to her is impacting the way I'm handling this situation. She's reminded me of how important family is and of how much it can hurt to lose them.

  I clap Griffin on the back and then grab my coffee as I head for the door. “Excuse me, man. Got a call to make.”

  He nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I say lifting my cup in the air.

  “Any time, brother.”

  I lift the phone to my ear but then pause. “And Griffin…I love you, man.”

  He gives me a curt nod. “I love you, too.”

  My phone is dialling Isla’s number as I step into the hallway.

  Chapter 33

  Isla

  My hand leaps to my fluttering, broken heart the moment I see Reuben’s name blinking up at me from my phone. I momentarily consider ignoring the call but refusing to face my issues head-on has never gotten me anywhere.

  I grab the phone off of my desk and accept the call as I stand and walk over to the door, closing it for a little privacy. This conversation will not be easy.

  "Hi," I say attempting a steady, unaffected voice.

  I can almost hear his smile over the line. "Hi." I close my eyes, toughening myself against the onslaught o
f emotions pouring through me upon hearing his voice. My eyes already tickle with tears and my throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you sooner. I miss you, Cinnamon." The playful tone in his voice only intensifies the sting of his betrayal. He did everything in his power to make me fall for him. And then he crushed my heart as soon as I handed it to him.

  I sit slowly in my chair. My wobbly legs can only hold me up for so long. "When are you coming back?" I question in a neutral tone.

  He laughs. It's full and robust and wonderful to the ears. But I cringe at the knowledge that it's just a part of his act. "Ah, so you miss me, too?"

  I don't want to play games. I just want to deal with the elephant in the room. "Reuben, when are you coming back to Reyfield?"

  There's a heavy pause as the air shifts between us. "Isla, are you okay?" His tone is much more serious now. I hear what sounds like worry infusing his words. "Did Zayn bother you again? Because I swear to god..."

  "No. This has nothing to do with Zayn," I say, my voice already going hoarse. "We need to talk. But it needs to be in person."

  The easy thing to do would be to break this all off. To run and hide and never utter a single word to Reuben Barre for as long as I live but that won't give me the closure I need. Only facing him, looking him dead in the eye and asking him why he lied to me will help me make peace with this. I let Zayn off the hook when he hurt me because I thought that it was the spiritual thing to do. But now I'm tired of letting these men walk all over my heart and relegating it to karma or fate or the universe. This time Isla wants answers.

  Reuben blows out a tense breath. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm in Denver dealing with some family stuff—"

  "And by family, do you mean Delia and Penelope?"

  The line goes silent. Shit – I'd promised myself I wouldn't do that. I hadn't wanted to show him all my cards so that he'd have time to concoct some bullshit story before we actually meet face-to-face. But I'm way too emotional right now to hold it in. I sit there at my desk imagining the stunned look on his face.

  "Isla..." He says my name slowly. It feels like a big, heavy boot is pressing down on my chest making it impossible to breathe. "Isla, I don’t know what it is that you think you know but I'm positive that you have the wrong idea."

  He’s trying to smooth-talk his way out of this. How predictable. "Reuben, I don't want to do this over the phone."

  "Isla, please," he begs. "Don't make any rash decisions. I can explain. It will all make sense. Please."

  I glance at the clock on the wall. Seniors yoga starts in less than ten minutes. I clear my throat. "I have to go, Reuben. Goodbye."

  I hold back a sob and hang up the phone. Then, I blot my eyes and smooth my ponytail over. There's a knock at the door and one of the workers involved in the renovations sticks his head into my office. "Got a moment, boss? Just wanna make sure you like where we’re installing the shelves."

  I force a light-hearted smile to my lips. “Sure.” Pushing my emotions aside, I ease out of my chair and hold my spine straight as I exit my office. I'll have lots of time to wallow in self-pity later when I'm alone in my cold, empty bed. For now, I've got to wear the mask and get shit done.

  The worker rattles on about the various types of support brackets for the shelves as we walk down the hall. Who knew that a person could be so passionate about shelving? As he explains the pros and cons of installing the shelves here as opposed to there, Nancy waves at me, following a group of her friends into the yoga room. I wave back, smiling as wide as my lips will allow.

  This studio is my pride and joy. No matter what's going on in my private life, I have to focus on making this business work.

  I still have to be Strong Isla whether my heart is breaking or not.

  Chapter 34

  Reuben

  I pace the floor at the foot of my brother's hospital bed.

  Goddammit! I should have talked to Isla about my situation a long time ago. I should have told her all about Delia when I had the chance but I just didn’t want to taint what we had going with talk of my past. Delia was a mistake, the biggest mistake of my life. I just can't bear the thought that she's about to ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.

  I pull hard on my hair. Fuck. I love Isla. I love her. In a way that I never loved Delia. I can trust her. She's an open book, but I've been just the opposite to her. I've kept secrets and now they're about to cost me everything.

  I throw a resentful glance at Ryan, lying there in his peaceful fucking slumber. His recent brain scans show that the swelling has decreased substantially but that's still no indication of when he'll wake up, if he'll wake up. So for now, he sleeps. He sent my world into a tailspin and now he gets to 'sleep' while I deal with the carnage. Selfish bastard. I kick the wheel of his bed, jostling his lifeless body. Wake up, asshole!

  But who am I to talk? I've been selfish, too. And that's how Isla got hurt. I kept secrets from her when I should have just told her the truth about what’s going on in my life.

  I slump into the chair next to the bed, feeling absolutely miserable. I've been in Denver for two weeks now and Isla has been refusing to take my calls. It's taking every ounce of self-restraint to keep from jumping on a plane, going back to Reyfield and demanding that she listen to me. But would be pointless. I know what the evidence says in black and white. The birth certificate and the paternity test both say that I'm Penelope's father. And as adorable as that little girl is, I can't be a party to that lie.

  I glance at my vegetable of a brother again. I need him. He's the only one who can clear my name.

  I bury my face in my hands. I'm going crazy. Not being with Isla – knowing that she hates me – is driving me insane. I throw my head back and stare up at the bevelled ceiling tiles.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand twitch on the stripped polycotton sheet. In utter disbelief, I shoot out of my chair, inching closer to get a better look.

  His hand twitches again. His eyes move under heavy eyelids.

  Holy shit! This is really happening!

  I rush out into the hallway, looking for help. "Nurse! Nurse!"

  A group of women are chatting and drinking coffee nearby. A silver-haired woman clad in scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck eyes me over her shoulder. "What is it, sir?" The bored look on her face tells me that she hasn't seen anything interesting in a long while. That's about to change.

  "He's waking up! I think he's waking up!"

  Without skipping a beat, she drops her clipboard and coffee onto the nurses' station behind her. "Page the doctor," she shouts and runs into the room followed by a trio of other nurses.

  Chapter 35

  Isla

  I purse my lips together and take a deep breath. My lawyer's number is dancing on the screen of my phone. This is so not what I need right now.

  Tonight was supposed to be all about me. The plan had been to soak in bubble bath up to my chin with a bottle of cheap red wine, a bag of mini rice cakes and a good book. I wasn't going to think about the renovations that have been driving me nuts at the yoga studio all week, I wasn't going to think about the way Reuben betrayed me and I most definitely wasn't going the think about Zayn. I was going to get drunk with nothing but puffed rice snacks as a buffer, read the Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck and masturbate…a little...maybe. But now that plan has clearly gone to shit.

  Thanks, Jim Thatcher, esquire.

  I lean over the side of the bathtub and I take my phone off of the sink. "Hello, Jim," I say, trying to sound jovial and confident or at the very least, somewhat pleasant.

  "Isla." He speaks in that curt tone of his and I'm already shuddering.

  This man is always the bearer of bad news. I’m positive that he’s distant relative of the Grim Reaper. What am I going to have to give to Zayn this time? A lock of hair? A pint of blood? My left lung? I just pray this lawyer isn't calling to tell me that my ex is pressing charges for that beat down I gave him a few wee
ks ago.

  The old man clears his throat pretentiously. "So, I just got a motion from your ex-husband's attorney." My stomach rolls into a big knot of anxiety. Fuck - I'm going to jail. "Zayn is dropping his support request for whatever reason. You don't have to pay him alimony anymore."

  I feel a chill skitter across my skin. A ball of shock lodges in my throat. "I don't have to pay alimony anymore?" I choke out. I need him to say it again because I obviously didn't hear him right.

  "Nope. You don’t. We've got to get the judge to sign off on it but that'll be a piece of cake. And then you'll be free of that bloodsucking ex of yours."