“Yeah, I did.” I laugh at her obvious jealousy.
Even if Whitney hasn’t remembered anything about me, she’s gotten jealous a couple of times tonight. Knowing that makes my chest swell, and the pressure I was feeling ease more. I’ll take every little bit she gives.
“Thanks, but I’ll be more comfortable in Shane’s clothes.” Kylie turns, mumbling a dry, “night” over her shoulder as she leaves Whitney and me alone.
I roll my head to the side, looking down at her. She glances up.
“Do one thing for me tomorrow, okay?” She raises a brow. “Go to a car shop or the Mercedes dealership to have your car looked over. Make sure there is no tracking device on it. I’ll leave you my credit card before I leave in the morning.”
“Shane.” She starts shaking her head.
I know I sound like a crazy person, but frankly, I don’t care. “No arguments. Just do that one thing for me. Please.”
“Fine.” She grits her teeth. “Goodnight.” She starts to walk away.
“Night, babe.” The endearment slips out, making her halt, but she doesn’t turn back round.
I know she heard me. Yet, she doesn’t choose to address it. Instead, I hear the door to the spare bedroom close after she walks away from me.
I sigh out as I shake my head.
I’m not sorry I said it. There will be more of them. She’s just going to have to get used to it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Whitney Lane
I wipe the lipstick I borrowed from Kylie off my lips using a tissue I snatched from the bathroom. It’s just not my color. I’d rather go without. It’s not like I like wearing it to begin with. I’m more of Chap Stick girl.
I like makeup, and I experiment with my eyes often. The more dramatic, the more I love the look. I just don’t like having to reapply lipstick constantly, so I typically go without.
Blake can’t stand when I get a wild hair up my ass and leave the house in a shade of shimmer eye shadow that matches my eyes with thick black eyeliner. As much as I enjoy the way I feel when I wear bold makeup, it’s the thrill of pissing my husband off that I love more.
Does that make me a bad wife?
Is that one of the reasons I’m in this predicament now? Maybe I’ve been trying to sabotage my marriage for a long time. What if my consequences for being a shitty wife are having my babies taken away?
“Are you nervous?” My eyes meet Kylie’s through the mirror on top of the dresser I’m leaning over.
Tossing the tissue down, I take a seat on the end of the bed in the room the girls and I are using.
“Am I doing the right thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if he takes my children from me?” Oh my God! What if he does? My heart starts to race.
“Whit, calm down.”
My hands are encased in Kylie’s before I realize she has come to sit down on the edge of the bed next to me. I look up, seeing love, acceptance, friendship, and much more staring straight at me through her dark eyes. She has a heart shaped face that I didn’t see before. I’m starting to understand why she was my best friend. She’s easy to talk to. There’s something about her that makes me want to open up and spill everything I keep locked up.
“I can’t. What if Blake takes the girls from me?”
“Stop,” she commands, forcing me to pull back. There’s an air of authority in her voice. “Sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “I sometimes have to get firm with my patients.” She bites the side of her dark red, lips looking at me. “Look, we both know Everly is Shane’s. The paternity test will prove that today in court. And hell, once the judge knows what all that sick bastard did, there’s no way any sane person would reward custody to him. You got this. Think positive, okay?”
“Easier said than done.” She squeezes my hands.
I’m not used to all of this affection. It’s overwhelming. I don’t know how to handle so many people invading my personal space. Shane is the only one that has kept a distance from me. And the only one I don’t want to.
I couldn’t sleep at all last night, and not because I was worried about today. I was, but something else was weighing me down more. I tossed and turned most of the time. Between my dream boy and the reality that is the man, I’m so confused.
I’ve dreamt of Shane every night since he walked back into my life. Only now he isn’t a teenager. He’s all six-feet-two-inches of lean, masculinity that has my libido in overdrive. My desire for that man is thick.
Maybe that’s why it was so easy to leave that party with him. I already knew him, even though I don’t really remember knowing him. I haven’t told him—or anyone—about my dreams. They’ve always been mine. I’ve never wanted to share them with anyone. And maybe there was always a small part of me that was embarrassed that I kept dreaming and wanting that teenager, to make me feel in real life the way he always did in my dreams.
I know Shane wants me to remember. It’s killing him that I can’t recall something about us. But maybe it’s because I’ve had the dreams for so long. And I know it’s him. Their voices are so much alike. The real Shane has a deeper, more penetrating voice than the boy from my dreams, but they are one and the same. This one’s just matured.
“Maybe you’re right,” I finally concede. There’s no point in stressing over something that may or may not happen. She is right about Everly, though. We haven’t seen the test result, but there is no doubt in my mind that she is Shane’s daughter. My own mother didn’t refute it, nor did my husband.
“Of course I’m right.” She bounces off the mattress. “If you didn’t like that shade of lipstick I gave you, I have more.”
The airport finally located her luggage yesterday, so Shane stopped by to grab it after taking Everly to school this morning. She’s not a believer in a weekend bag—that’s for sure.
“I’m okay without any. Thanks though.”
“All right. I’ll be in Shane’s room finishing getting ready. Shane said we needed to leave in thirty minutes.”
A pang of jealousy shoots through me because I know Shane is in his room getting dressed too. The thought of him seeing another woman naked makes my insides roll.
Logically I know these thoughts have no merit. I’m the one that is married. Neither of them are. He said himself, she has leaned on him this past year since her fiancé was killed. And I can’t imagine what that’s like. Still . . .
What all has she taken, I wonder?
What all has he given her?
I can’t help but fist my hands together from where they’re lying in my lap. I didn’t want to bring Emersyn with us. Luckily, Eve volunteered to stay behind offering to keep her. In turn, Shane talked me into letting her. I didn’t have much of a choice, and so far, trusting Shane hasn’t let me down.
I don’t know what will be said, or if there will be any shouting on mine or Blake’s part. I don’t want to be forced to give her over if the judge doesn’t find anything that Blake has done wrong.
The judges voice rips me from me thoughts and I look toward the bench where he’s seated.
“In all my thirty-two years behind this bench,” he leans forward, interlacing his fingers together in front of him, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything as atrocious as this. And I’ve witnessed quite a lot sitting up here.” His eyes roam from mine, then to Blake’s side of the courtroom, and back to mine multiple times before continuing. “Mrs. Lane,” he addresses me, and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hold myself together. “Do you wholeheartedly believe your husband has done the things your friends have testified to?”
“Yes.” My voice sounds stronger than the war raging inside of me. “Your Honor, I don’t have to remember my life before to know I was tricked, deceived.”
I catch Blake out of the corner of my eye, leaning in, whispering something into his lawyer’s ear.
“Your Honor, I object.” Blake’s lawyer stands, buttoning his suit jacket. “There is no proof to back up Mrs.
Lane’s claims.”
“Your Honor.” Jacob stands. “I can personally testify on my client’s behalf. She may not remember herself, but I do. And the paternity test did prove Everly Michelle Lane is the biological daughter of Shane Braden. Not Mr. Lane’s.”
“Not necessary, Mr. Evans. I’ve heard enough. I’m granting the birth certificate contest of Everly Lane and awarding Mrs. Lane as legal guardian of the child. Mrs. Lane and Mr. Braden, you’ll need to get your lawyer to file a request through the state to change the name on the birth certificate. And Mr. Braden,” he addresses Shane. “You need to understand the implications of doing this. You will be obligated financially for the child. You may even be required to pay child support to her mother.”
I tilt my head to the side, watching Shane nod at the judge’s statement.
Child support? Jeez, we haven’t discussed anything, yet. What if he wants partial custody? My thoughts are cut off as Judge Harrison continues.
“As for Emersyn Rose Lane.” The man lets out a long sigh, shaking his salt and pepper covered head. “I wish I could do more, Mrs. Lane, but within Family Court, I have found no evidence to support that you or Mr. Lane are unfit parents or have done anything to put the child at hand in danger.” I take a quick peek over at Blake as my skin prickles. He’s staring at me with a devious grin taking form. Blake thinks he’s won. Breathing in, I face forward, waiting for the judge to seal my daughter’s fate. “I’m awarding joint custody to you both. Emersyn will remain with her Mother until you both meet to determine living arrangement.”
“Your honor,” Blake’s lawyer, calls out, his voice giving away the surprise in his tone.
“Mr. Perry, please be seated. I’m not done speaking.” Judge Harrison turns his attention back to the rest of us. “You both have two weeks from today to come to an arrangement, or the court will come to one for you.” He looks directly at me, but my vision is blurred from the water pooling in them. “I’m not happy with this, Mrs. Lane. I’d personally rather your husband never see his daughter again, but I’m bound by the law. I am truly sorry that I can’t give you what you want.” He glares in Blake’s direction, shaking his head again, then moves his eyes back to mine. The sound of the gavel hitting the small block on the judge’s bench, punctuating his ruling, makes me jump. “This ruling is final. The court is now adjourned.”
That’s it? How can he . . .? My tears fall. I can’t stop them. I hear Shane pull a sharp breath into his mouth right before he moves from his spot next to me, storming off. I can’t move, though. I’m stuck to my seat—rooted to it.
“Whitney.” My name is called. “Sweetheart,” Jacob says, putting his arm around me and pulling me into his side. “This isn’t over. We’ll fight the custody ruling. And go as far as you’re willing to take it against the people that have caused this mess of shit.”
Yeah, this mess.
This mess that makes it feel as though my baby girl is being taken away from me. Away from her sister.
Who’s going to bathe her? Read her stories when she’s with Blake. He isn’t going to do it. He does nothing. None of the important stuff anyhow. He’s never helped with her necessities. And she’s attached to her sister more than she is me. She’s not going to want to go if Everly doesn’t.
And there is no way in hell Shane is going to agree to let her go. Not that I’d even considered asking. I wouldn’t do that to him.
I doubt Blake would even go for it either.
Everything makes so much more sense now that I know Everly isn’t his. How did I not put it together before? I’m her mother. It’s my job to know things, to see them clearly for their sake.
I should have pushed more. I should have made my folks tell more about my past. Pictures. I never saw many. Not any after I turned five, anyway.
I feel so dumb. I never considered myself naive. What word would you call what I’ve let myself be for the past ten years? Ten years. What life could I have had? How would things have been different? Would I be married to Shane instead? Would I have another child by him instead of the bastard I’ll be linked to for the rest of my life?
“I’m going to need a number to reach you by, wife.”
I look up. Blake is leaning over the table I’m still sitting at, peering down at me with gloat in his eyes.
“Go to Hell.” The words fall from my lips, and for once I don’t care.
“Whitney, you’re going to have to provide him with a phone number to reach you at. I’m sorry.” Jacob squeezes my arm, offering a little comfort.
Fuck my life.
Someone gains Jacob’s attention and he turns away from me. When I look back in front of me, Blake leans down, placing his palms on the table, inches from mine. I slide them off, away from him and lean back in my chair.
“I could stop by that apartment you’ve be at since the night you left me face down on the ground last week.”
What the . . .? He knows. He knows where Shane lives. How does he know?
Then it hits me. My car. My fucking car did have an auto theft device on it when I took it in to be checked.
“What’s the matter, wifey?” I glare up at him. “Didn’t think I knew?” He bends lower, inching closer to me. “Don’t ever forget how smart I am.” His smile vanishes. “And don’t ever forget, you’re mine.”
“No.” I stand. “I’m not.” And with those last words, I walk out of the courtroom without looking back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shane Braden
“FUCK!” I scream, pulling at the roots of my hair as I slide down the door. “Give me strength. Someone. Please,” I beg.
The back of my head rests against the wood as my body starts to shake. Nothing I do seems to get it under control.
That’s why I’m hiding out in the men’s bathroom looking for anything to grant me a little bit of reprieve. Just a moment . . .
My heart is racing a mile a minute, and my head pounds with the memory of Whitney’s shattered face when the judge said that piece of shit could have equal rights to Emersyn. Those tears made me see red.
How? How does any sane person let that man within a mile of that little girl? If he’s capable of what he did to Whitney, what would he do to their daughter?
“Shane?” My dad’s voice breaks through from the other side of the locked door.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him, mustering up all the bravado I have left in me.
“Son, I think . . .”
There’s silence as I wait, listening for him to finish. But it doesn’t come. What does come is the sound of the handle being jiggled instead.
I stand, breathing in deep as my lower lip quivers. I will not lose it. Just as I blow the air out, there’s a soft knock, followed by Whitney’s voice. “Open, please.”
I turn the lock without hesitation, opening the door to face her. Sadness still clouds her eyes, making my chest constrict even more.
Without words, she steps forward and into my space, wrapping her arms around my middle. The side of her face meets the center of my chest, and this feels like home. The tension my body is holding starts to release. I can’t help but wrap one arm around her back as I bring my other hand up and behind her head, pulling her into me, fusing us together.
At this moment, she feels like mine again.
I want so badly for it to be real, but logically I know she’s just seeking some form of comfort. Whitney was never the type of person that would let many people see her vulnerable.
She pulls on my polo shirt, fisting it and pulling as if she can’t get me close enough.
Running my hands down her sides, I stop just underneath her ass, then I hoist her up, making her wrap her legs around my waist. I’m not planning on kissing her. I’m not planning on doing anything further than holding her. But right now, I need all of her in my arms.
She doesn’t say a word. Nor does she try to get me to let her go.
Whitney wraps her arms around me, and stares, looking me in the eyes the same as
I look into hers.
“This feels so . . .”
“Right,” I finish for her, and she nods.
“I want to remember, Shane. I really do.”
“I know.” And I do know. I can see the want, the need for her memories every time she looks at me. I can hear it in her voice when she speaks. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything,” she says, nodding her head. “There’s no need to ask permission. Just ask me.”
“Will you take that wedding ring off, please?” Seeing it daily, it’s only a reminder that she isn’t mine. I already have the fear inside my head that she never will be. I don’t need the visual.
“Oh.” Her eyebrows scrunch together.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I need her to, but I won’t tell her that. She has to want to.
“I didn’t realize I still had them on.” Her hands fall away from my neck, but I have a firm grip on her—she’s not going anywhere. She brings her left hand in-between us. “What do I do with them?” She removes both rings.
“Throw them on the floor. Toss them in the trash. I really don’t care as long as I never have to see them on your finger again.”
She scowls, making me scowl right back at her.
“I’m not throwing them on the floor. Do you know how much they’re worth?”
“I don’t care, Whitney.”
“Well, I do. I’m jobless with no money and two kids.” Her fingers fold around the two rings. “These could help until I figure out what I’m going to do.”
“What does that mean?” My grip on her ass tightens at the thought of her leaving me. My lips fall open, and I can’t control my labored breaths. She can’t leave . . .
“I-I . . . I didn’t mean I’m going anywhere, but . . .”
“But what?” My breath fans her face, making her hair fly up.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “But you can’t stop your life,” she pleads, “just because I can’t remember who I was. I don’t know if I’ll ever remember, Shane.”
More Than Memories: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 14