“Okay, what did you do now?” she sighs. My back is to her, but I know she has entered the kitchen. “Shane?” Her voice doing a one-eighty, becoming softer and surprised. “You didn’t tell me your brother was here.”
“Yeah well . . .” Shawn brings his coffee to his lips as his eyes meet mine.
“Hey Bud,” she greets Shane, and he gives her a small smile—a forced one.
“Boys. Taralynn, that smell alone is going to make this old man fat.” A man chuckles. Their dad. It must be.
“Mom. Dad.” Curiosity gets the better of me, so I twist in my chair to face them. “He called you for m—” Shane doesn’t get to finish what he was saying.
“Oh, my . . .” Her hand covers her mouth as I take her in first. It’s not just the short, dark hair cut into a bob that gets me. It’s not her sparkling eyes that begin to pool with tears while she stares back at me. It’s the look, the facial features, the . . . everything. My daughter could easily pass for her own daughter. They favor that much. “I can’t belie . . .” Her hands slowly slip away from her face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Mom,” Shane calls out.
She doesn’t answer him or even acknowledge he’s in the room. She just keeps looking at me.
“Oh, Angel.” A tear falls down her cheek as she takes a step forward. “I’ve missed you so much.” She clasps her hand around my bicep, pulling me gently up and out of the chair and into an embrace, wrapping her arms all the way around me. She squeezes tightly.
Angel. Why does that give me butterflies? She called me Angel. But from what I took away from Shane last night in the car it sounded as though I was a tough teenager to handle—certainly not an angel.
“Here, Pam. I made it just the way you like it.” Taralynn tips her lips up, looking at me like she knows I need rescuing. Pam lets go, reluctantly, then takes the steaming cup from Taralynn. “Strong and more strong.”
“Thanks, Honey,” Pam says to her retreating back as Taralynn walks back over to the stove. She takes a small sip, slurping the liquid into her mouth. But she keeps looking at me. I have to take a step away, walking backward.
It’s on the second step that a hand touches my hip, covering the long T-shirt and yoga pants Taralynn let me borrow. I know it’s Shane even before I look over my shoulder. At first, it feels like heat coating me from the outer side, but it’s the shaking of his palm that makes the warmth retreat. He quickly removes it.
I was about to back into him. I know that’s the reason he reached out to me.
He swallows hard, then looks around me. I slide over so he can see his parents better.
“Mom,” Shane calls her again. “Dad, you too.” He presses his teeth to the corner of his bottom lip. “Can I talk to you both? Out back?”
“Of course, Bud.” His mom bobs her head.
“Momma.” Everly’s shy voice drowns out everything around me.
“Momma.” Another voice—Emersyn—copies her sister, making me chuckle. She’s been doing it for over a month now.
Twisting around, Everly is standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Her sister is wrapped around her leg, hiding behind her. Em isn’t shy, but she always clings to her sister every chance she gets and luckily it doesn’t seem to bother Everly. I think she likes it.
“Your sister wake you up?” I ask Ev.
She starts to nod, but it’s the intake of breath that makes my insides drop. Not again.
Looking over, I see Shane’s mom bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as her eyes grow large. As if to keep from speaking—or maybe screaming—she slides the side of one finger between her teeth and bites down.
She sees it. Of course she does. She sees the resemblance to her son—to herself.
“Mom.” Shane tries to get her attention. When she doesn’t acknowledge him, he stands, takes two steps in her direction, and places a hand on her shoulder. “Whit will introduce you to the girls later. Let’s go talk, okay?” He turns her gently, then moves his hand from her shoulder, down to her elbow, then guides her to the back door.
His dad follows. But as he does so, he glances between my daughter and me with the saddest look on his face. That sadness quickly turns to anger. Can I blame him? It’s then I notice the resemblance to Shawn. Shawn looks like a younger version of his father. He favors his dad as much as Shane favors his mom in looks. Shane alluded to Shawn’s quick temper earlier. I wonder if his dad is the same?
I see the damage that’s been done to them as clear as a blue sky. The damage done to you I hear somewhere in the back of my mind. But I push it farther back.
Not now. Not yet.
Keep it together, Whitney.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shane Braden
I look behind me before exiting the back door that leads to my brother’s backyard. Everly is standing there, eyes wide, looking at everyone while her little sister pays no mind to anyone but her. Confusion and uncertainty marres her precious face.
My daughter.
The suffocation in my lungs thicken every time I think about her—see her. It’s heavy, and it’s excruciating.
Going through the door, I turn left then I take a seat on the patio couch that’s underneath the wood awning. My parents sit in the two chairs facing me. My mom is in a daze with her eyes glassed over. She’s staring off into space—thinking I guess.
“Whitney called her, Everly, didn’t she? That’s your daughter’s name?” my dad asks.
“Yeah.”
“You have a daughter, Shane.” He looks down at the ground for a long time. I don’t say anything. There’s no point confirming something that’s plain as day.
When he looks back up, his dark brown eyes reflect something I’ve never seen in my father before. Hatred. I’m not so naive that I think my dad is a saint. No one is. But he is a good man. The best man I know. He and my mother both have preached to me since I can remember that there’s nothing in this world worth hating. There’s nothing worth in life to allow that feeling to set up residence inside you he’s told me. But they were wrong. And he knows that now too.
“What the hel . . .” he stops before finishing. It’s not that he doesn’t cuss. He does, on occasion. But I didn’t grow up in a house where my parents raised their voices when they got mad. My father and my brother are actually a lot like, but where Shawn is quick-tempered, my dad knows how to control his. He takes a deep breath, then forces out a rough exhale. “What in God’s name is going on? Why do you have a daughter none of us knew nothing about?”
“She was pregnant when we were in that wreck,” I tell him. My mom is still lost somewhere inside her head. “I didn’t know that until last night.” It takes everything I have inside me not to lose myself and break down in front of them. I’m trying. I’m trying hard to keep it together. But I’m slowly losing the battle.
“That wasn’t in her chart,” he bites out. “I would have seen that, Shane. I would have told you.”
I know that. I know he never would have kept something so huge from me had he known. He wouldn’t have kept anything from me. It’s because of my father that I even knew she survived the wreck. Her mom told mine she was dead. When I heard those words spill from my mother’s lips, I died.
“I know, Dad.” My eyes burn. “But she was, and they kept that from me. Hell.” A dry laugh breaks from my lips. “They . . .” I can’t tell them without choking up.
“They what?” he asks, wanting me to push on.
“You don’t remember a guy named Blake Lane from when I was in high school, do you?”
My father shakes his head. “No. Should I?”
“No,” I confirm. “He’s just some guy her parents tried to get her to date for years.” I pause, trying to gain the strength to force the words out. “She’s married to him. Her parents—maybe her mom, I don’t know—told her Blake was Everly’s father.” The words are bitter on my tongue.
“Please tell me this is all a goddamn dream?”
“I wish
it were, Dad. I wish it were.”
He leans back, looking up. The sky is gloomy, with dark clouds in the distance, like it’s going to rain this morning. There’s humidity in the air, making my lungs want to collapse. Or maybe that’s just all the pressure sitting on top of my chest making me feel that way.
After a minute his head falls, landing back on me.
“How’d you find out? How did you get here?” I scoot forward as he speaks. “Does she remember?”
“No.” It’s all I can say at the moment. I wish like hell she did. I told her last night, she may be here, but she’s still so far away from me. So far away from us when I need her here. I need her in my arms more than I need the air struggling to get to my lungs. “She doesn’t remember. I was at Gavin’s house last night. She showed up, and well . . . shit happened.” The sound of her beautiful voice floats into me. The memory coats my insides, warming me. She gave me life last night, and she doesn’t even know it.
“This is my fault. That bitch did this because of me.”
My mom finally comes out from whatever place she was. “Like hell it is.” Her voice is fierce. My mom isn’t someone you mess with. She’s fearless. Whitney was fearless once. I think that’s what drew me to her, to begin with. I love that my mother is strong—a force to reckon’ with, but tender at the same time.
“Pam.” Dad shakes her words away. “It is.”
“No, Dad. Mom is right. This isn’t your fault. It’s them. This is on them. All of them.” I don’t know who all of them is, but I’m going to find out. And I’m going to destroy every single one of them.
Judy Reed.
Blake Lane.
Her dad, Martin Reed. There’s no way he wasn’t a part of it. He might not have been the family man mine is, but he’s not stupid either.
“So what are you planning on doing?” It’s my dad that poses the question. Yet I haven’t a clue how to answer him, so I do what I always do, I go for honesty.
“I don’t know.” I let out a long sigh as I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees and lacing my fingers. “I can’t get those years back.” My head shakes, as I hammer that point across. I don’t have a plan. Not yet, anyway.
“I just . . .” My mom doesn’t finish her thought.
“What have you and Whitney discussed?” He gets right to the point.
“Just the past, her past, from before the accident,” I inform them.
“She knows, right? She knows you’re that child's father?”
“Yeah, Dad. She knows. She’s still trying to wrap her mind around it all.”
“I called my dad last night.” We stop talking, and we both look toward her. Taralynn is braced against the door. I didn’t hear her come out. “I hope that’s okay, Shane, but I had to do something.”
“Jacob.” My mom whispers Taralynn’s father’s first name. Jacob Evans.
“He’s out of town, but he’ll be back home tomorrow evening. His flight lands in Memphis, actually. He said he could come by your apartment or here, or wherever you need him to come.” She pushes off the door. “He wants to help, Shane.”
“It’s not a bad idea, Bud,” my mother chimes in. “Jacob’s . . . well Jacob, but he is a lawyer. A good one. And you’re gonna need one, fast.”
“He is, Shane. He’s good at his job, and he’ll know what you should do. What you and Whitney should do.”
Taralynn’s right. I know she is. I can’t believe I didn’t think of him myself. I nod, telling her I’m good with that.
“Thanks, Precious,” I tell her. She rewards me with a small smile.
I may not have any say in Whitney’s younger daughter, but I’ll be damned if I let mine go back to him. I love Whitney, I do, more than I’ve ever comprehended, but now that I know I have another life—my daughter’s life—I’m responsible for, I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.
Not even the love of my life.
My phone blasts for the ninth time today. I know she’s not going to stop calling—not until I answer and give her whatever it is she’ll demand. Whitney. It’s not what she’ll want; it’s who. But Whit can’t handle her yet. She won’t remember her, but Eve will try to force her to.
I love Eve. She’s one of my best friends. But she’s a lot to deal with on a normal day. Now that Whitney’s within reach, she’ll stop at nothing to get to her.
The only reason Kylie isn’t here is because of her job. She’s working in the SICU all month, and it’s only the first of November today. It’ll be next month before she can request time off. She’ll probably take her few days off—days she needs to rest—to fly home. Even if it’s for a day. I’m already expecting her to show up by Thursday of this coming week.
I exhale and answer. “You’re not going to give it a rest, are you?”
“Fuck you, Shane Braden. Answer your fucking phone, and I wouldn’t be psycho dialing you.” Eve breathes heavily on the other end. “You and damn Kylie. It’s like you don’t want me to see or talk to my friend. My friend, Shane! She was my friend too.” Her voice cracks.
“I know, Eve. I’m not disputing that. Not at all, but give her a minute.”
“I need to talk to her. I need to see her. It’s been fucking forever.”
“Eve,” I call out, trying to get her to stop.
“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m coming home whether you like it or not. And you won’t stop me from seeing her.” She sniffles, telling me this is affecting her just as much as it’s affecting me. “Maybe I can help her remember. What are you doing to help her remember?”
“What did Ky tell you?”
“Fuck her too. She’s just worried about you. She told me to give you breathing room,” Eve spits out like she’s disgusted.
“So, she didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? She said I wasn’t allowed to call you until the middle of the week. Like that bitch can control what I do.”
I’m taken aback for a minute, and then it dawns on me. Kylie didn’t tell her for a reason. And Eve is going to flip out. But I know why she didn’t. Eve would have been on a plane here already.
“Can you wait till Kylie comes? I think she’s coming toward the end of the week. She’s off Thursday and Friday.”
“Shane,” she whines. “Don’t ask me to wait that long.”
“Please. Just give me a few days alone with her.”
She’s silent, and a minute goes by without words.
“Fine, then I’ll be there Thursday. I’ll be there. So if I were you, I’d prepare her for me.” Even she knows she’s a handful.
“Thank you.”
“Fuck you.” The line cuts off. She didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just the way she’s always told me goodbye.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Whitney Lane
He’s going to hate me. I feel it in my gut. But I don’t have a choice. Tomorrow is Monday, and Everly can’t miss school. She’s never missed a day of school since she started K-3, and I’m not about to let that change now.
“I need to go home.” I perch against the door leading into the living room from the foyer. Emersyn is taking a nap upstairs, and Everly is in the room with her watching television. I get the feeling these people watch a lot of television. I’ve seen a TV in every room including the back patio when I peeked out the window earlier.
“Like hell you do.” Shane’s face snaps up from where he’s sitting on the couch, as does Shawn and Taralynn’s at the sound of his voice. She’s sitting in her boyfriend’s lap. Shawn has his arm wrapped snuggly around her middle. They’re both eyeing me, waiting for me to speak.
Roaming my gaze over to Shane, I declare, “Yes. Yes, I do.” It never fails. Butterflies erupt in my belly whenever his eyes are on mine, when he’s speaking to me, when his flesh grazes mine.
“Not happening.” Fire ignites behind his eyes as his head shakes from side to side. Are those eyes daring me?
“I don’t have clothes,” I divulge, ignoring the fighting urge to fire bac
k on him. I don’t know where the feeling inside is coming from. “The girls don’t have any clothes. I have no money, no cell phone, no nothing, Shane.” I finally let out a sigh, trying to remember to put myself in his shoes. “I get it though.”
“No. I don’t think you do. I’m not telling you ‘no’ to tell you what you are or aren’t going to do, Whitney. They stole you from me. They stole her from me.” His voice raises as he points behind me, toward the stairwell, and I know he’s talking about our daughter.
I swear a crack opens somewhere deep inside my chest. I feel it forming.
“I’m just asking you to give me until I have a chance to speak to Jacob tomorrow evening.” His eyes beg, pleading with me not to leave. It’s pulling at the spot in my chest, deepening the split that’s forcing my heart wide open.
I don’t think he can just give me tomorrow. He wants more. He wants me. It’s written all over his face for me to see. It’s open, honest, and laying it all out.
The problem is . . . can I give him what he wants? I don’t even know him; not really. Not the me I am now, anyway.
Goddamn memories. Where are they? My head falls back, looking at the ceiling above, cursing the higher power beyond it. Why? Why can’t I remember anything? Why are you keeping them from me?
If I just had the right key to unlock them . . .
His cell phone rests in my hand. I compromised—for now. For now, I won’t leave. At least not until I talk to my parents. Everything they have done may be writing on the wall, but I need them to tell me the truth. I need to hear it from their mouths.
But will they?
They have to. I have a daughter with a man that I’m not married to. A man that rips at the flesh in front of my heart. Just being in the same room with him makes me forget everything I’ve ever been told. I don’t feel like my life is so . . . borrowed when I’m near him. That’s what that last ten years have felt like. My insides harden at the thought of my family betraying me. I’m a mom. I could never do something so wrong to my girls.
More Than Memories: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 9