Gavin was waiting in the parking lot when we arrived home last night. Seeing her unharmed, and as the same bubbly three-year-old she always is, killed the panic I felt when Shane told me he left her with that bitch. Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh, but she didn’t care that his heart belonged to someone else when she kissed him.
Shane told me about his conversation with Roxanne. The one that prompted him to locate Everly’s cell phone via GPS when he couldn’t reach me.
If he hadn’t bought that phone for her, I don’t know if she or I would be standing here today.
I hadn’t said one word to him until yesterday because of that phone. What a bitch I was. I was a fucking child who treated him like shit. That could’ve easily been the last thing I’d done. I could have really died this time, and he probably would have questioned my love. That thought sickens me. I don’t want him to ever doubt the way I feel about him.
And he was going to ask me to marry him despite it all. God, I don’t deserve this man I love with all my heart.
The same thoughts continue repeating in my head. Shane saved us. Yet, he can’t get past the fact that a man is dead. A man I’ve told him over and over in the last twenty-four hours deserved everything that happened to him. I wish it hadn’t happened at our expense, but it did.
I pick my glass up, knocking the finger of whiskey back in one swallow.
Shane isn’t the only one eaten up with guilt. So many emotions are rolling through me, and I’m trying to be strong, but fuck, it’s hard.
All I want is to take the damage of yesterday and flush it down the toilet. What Everly saw yesterday can never be unseen. Shane may never get past someone’s life ending because of a push from his hand. It doesn’t matter that all of this is Blake’s fault. I can’t flush any of this away. And I don’t know how to make this situation better for my family. I don’t know how to take Shane’s guilt away. Guilt that should have never pierced his soul.
What if the permanent damage Blake has caused the people I love is too great? What if Shane can’t get past it? He’s in his last year of residency. He has six months left. He has to prepare for his board exams. He doesn’t need this in his life.
My stupid head keeps telling me he doesn’t need me in his life. My heart fights like it should. Like I need it to. I’m not weak. I tried to force myself to be weak when I didn’t know who I was, but that person kept trying to get back up. That person was fighting to come back, I just didn’t allow myself to embrace it. I allowed my parents and Blake to fill me with lie after lie.
I pick up the bottle on the counter, pouring more liquid into my glass. I fill the glass, pouring a lot more into it than I should, and then I take it to the table.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to hurt someone for causing the people I love most, so much pain. For causing me all this agony.
I want to give up too. The pressure in my chest is so great. The agony that consumes my head is too much to bear.
You’d think with Blake dead, life would feel easier. There’s no one I have to share Emersyn with. No more taking her to her father every other weekend. No more excessive texts. I don’t even have to wait for my divorce now. He’s gone. Actually I’m a widow.
But everything he left in his wake . . . What the hell am I going to do with it? I keep coming back to, how do I fix this mess? And my problem is I don’t know how. It’s making me question too many things. It’s making me feel undeserving when I know in my heart Shane and I are meant to be together forever. He’s my foreverly after too.
I’m about to drink from my glass when I cringe, remembering the doctor’s words from yesterday. It’s positive. Shit. Fuck. Damn. Motherfucking son of a bitch, no I didn’t . . .
I sigh in frustration, mad at myself. Not only did I forget about being pregnant, but I also drank alcohol. Not much, just an ounce, but I still . . . I shake my head. Seriously, Whitney. Who the hell forgets they’re pregnant?
I haven’t even told Shane about the baby. Nor have I told him what Blake divulged yesterday about Emersyn and my birth control pills that weren’t real.
I don’t want to put too much on him. I just want to ease his pain, his guilt. I want to take it in my hands and squeeze the life out of it.
I sit the glass on the table, pushing it away from me, disgusted.
“What the hell, Whitney?” I look over to see Shawn stomping toward me with his arms crossed.
I think the feeling of wanting to cry outweighs everything. I push what I’ve just done to the back of my mind and focus my thoughts on Shane.
A tear drops, making me feel weak when I just want to be strong. I don’t know how to fix Shane, and that feeling is crushing my heart. Or maybe it’s ripping it open. I don’t know.
He grabs me, wrapping both of his hands around my biceps and hauling me up onto my feet, bringing me inches from his chest.
“Get your shit together!” Shawn yells in my face, making me rear my head back as far as possible after being hit with spittle. “He killed a man. Whatever you’re feeling right now . . . Guilt? Loss? I don’t know. Get over it. He. Killed. Someone. What’s going through his mind is a hundred times worse than what’s going through yours.”
He thinks I don’t know this? Really? What the fuck?
“I was a bitch. A stupid, stupid bitch to him. And Shane? Shane was going to propose anyway?”
“Of course he was. He loves you, woman. He’s always loved you, and only you. And from what I remember and from what I’ve heard, you were a bitch in high school but he still wanted you—still loved you in spite of all that. Some guys like that, the same way some girls like major dicks. Case in point.” He points to the center of his chest.
“I don’t think you’re a dick.” I sniffle, then wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Okay, maybe he is being somewhat of an insensitive dick, but I know he’s just worried about his brother. I get it.
“Give it a few months. You haven’t seen all my colors yet. And I’ve been on the best behavior of my life lately.”
“Thanks, Shawn.”
Some of the weight eases off my chest. He’s right. He’s so fucking right. Shane does love me for me. I know this. Shane’s told me this, countless times.
“For what?”
“Reeling me in. Getting me out of my head.”
“Look, you gotta accept he loves you for you and nothing more and nothing less. Then, wherever that strong bitch-girl is, bring her out and go fix my brother. He needs you right now. And I need you to take care of him and make whatever demons crawling around in his head disappear.”
I want to. I want to do that so badly. But can I?
Images of my parents flicker through my mind, hardening my chest. I need to face them before I attempt to fix my man. I have to fix the me they damaged first.
“I will.” I finally say. “I will do everything in my power to help get him past this. But first, I have to do something for me. You’re staying here, right?”
“I can.”
“Stay. I need to go see the bastard assholes that fucked with my life. Okay?”
He’s silent. He’s thinking. And then he nods his understanding of what it is I need to do. I don’t know how he could understand, but I’m grateful he does. He has wonderful parents.
I bypass him then stop, turning around. “Hey.”
He picks up my glass, bringing it to his lips. “Yeah?” he asks over the rim.
“Maybe take your own advice,” I offer.
He tosses the whiskey down his throat. “Meaning what?” He places the glass back on the table.
“She loves you for you too, you know. Truly loves you for the man you are.”
I believe that too. I think he and Taralynn are meant for each other the same way I know Shane and I are.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t nod or address it at all. Instead, he takes the glass to the counter, and I watch him bring a second glass down from the cabinet. He’s going to make Shane one. I know it. And I’m okay w
ith it. Shane needs something until I can get back.
“My parents said the girls can stay with them for as long as you need,” he says with his back facing me.
I’m grateful for them. I really am, but as soon as I make Shane believe what happened, happened for a reason, then we’re going to get our kids and we’re starting our family. The five of us.
Do I knock? Or do I walk right through?
I don’t feel like knocking. I don’t want to treat them with respect. They didn’t respect me. They didn’t treat me like a human. They made me their puppet. But why? It’s the one piece I do not understand. I don’t believe it was because they didn’t like Shane. They didn’t know him.
I reach for the knob but stop. Looking at the brass door handle, my hand pauses mid-air. After a beat, it falls, and I let out a sigh.
I am going to be strong. I am going to be what my family needs. And they need me to be an adult. They don’t need me barging in, even if it is what I want to do.
I knock, and then I wait.
Within seconds the door pulls open. Surprise crosses my mother’s face. “I wasn’t expecting you, Whitney.”
“Is Dad home too?”
“Yes. He’s getting ready to leave though. A business trip,” she clarifies, waving her hand as she turns, leaving me on the doorstep. “It’s awfully late, dear.”
If I’d come this morning, she’d be telling me it was awfully early.
I step over the threshold, following her through the foyer, and then into her sitting room. AKA the living room for normal people.
“Have a seat; I’ll fetch Martin.”
She turns, leaving to find my dad the same time my cell phone sounds off with an incoming text message. I take it out of my back pocket, then perch my butt on the edge of the couch arm.
Shawn: New plan. Taking him to my house. Go there after you tell off the fucks you call parents.
Me: Don’t get him too drunk.
I have things I need to tell him.
The palm of my free hand goes to my belly. I’m pregnant. The shock is still there, but with everything that’s happened today, it has been at the furthest section of my mind.
Shawn: If that’s what he needs then that’s what he’s getting.
“Whitney.” I look up to see my father strolling in. He has a bag on wheels he parks next to the wide entryway. “What brings you here unexpected?” He walks up to me, stopping in front to kiss my forehead. I allow him, knowing there’s a huge chance I’ll leave here never speaking to my parents again.
“Blake’s dead.” There’s no sense in sugarcoating it. Might as well rip the Band-Aid clean off.
“What?” My mother gasps for breath.
My dad takes a step backward, away from me, but says nothing.
“Blake’s gone?” My mother’s hand covers her mouth and tears prickle her lower eyelids while my jaw drops. “The poor Lanes. Their only son. Dear, Jesus. This is . . .” She leans against the entryway, across from us where my dad left his small suitcase. Business trip, huh? I want to laugh, but that’s not why I’m here.
“He kidnapped Everly from school yesterday. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the story on the news.”
“Kidnapped?” My Father’s eyebrows turn in, scrutinizing what I’ve just told them.
“She’s his daughter, Whitney.” My mother stands straight, placing her hands on her hips. “If he picked her up from school it wasn’t kidnapping. The poor man hasn’t seen her in weeks. You’re the one that has kidnapped his children from him.”
Wow. Just wow. I got nothing for that.
“She is Shane’s daughter. She was never Blake’s. How could the two of you do what you did? If it wasn’t for Shane, she and I could both be dead right now instead of Blake. He had a gun. He was determined to hurt Everly because she wasn’t his.”
“That boy killed him, didn’t he?” Her tone is accusing. How dare her.
“Fuck you. If the two of you hadn’t played God with my life, Shane would have never been placed in the situation he was put in last night. He saved us. Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say the two of you have done. This is y’all’s doing. Blake is dead because you both fed me lies. You both stole my life and gifted it to a man I didn’t love.”
“Don’t you see why we never wanted you with that boy?”
“You didn’t even know that boy.”
“Christ,” my dad blows out. “It was a business transaction, Whitney. Grow up. We gave you a good life with a man from a good family. And in exchange Blake’s father pulled my company out of a financial hole. Without their help, we would have gone bankrupt. You should be grateful instead of sitting there cursing your mother and me like you’re doing.” He flicks his wrist, looking down at the expensive watch adorning his arm. “I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t hurry. Judy, deal with her please.”
My mother waves her hands like it’s nothing at all. Like I’m nothing more than a snag in her pantyhose. I guess if I think about it, that’s really all I am to her. That’s all I’ve ever been to her. To both of my parents.
A fucking business transaction he called it?
“I need to call the Lanes. Give my condolences. Oh,” my mother places her hand on her head. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. So sad. What am I supposed to say to them, Whitney?”
“How about, ‘go fuck yourselves’?”
My dad rushes out, apparently not wanting to face what he’s done. And my mom? She’s not addressing it either. She’s too worried about Blake’s parents and what they’re going to think.
Like I give a rat’s ass. They’re probably responsible for making him the psycho he was.
Screw this.
Fuck them.
They’ll never be sorry. They’ll never regret the pain and years lost they’ve caused.
My boyfriend. The father of my children. Children. Plural. I place my hand against my stomach, remembering my doctor’s appointment. I’m pregnant.
Shane is not only just Everly’s dad. He’s the father of my unborn child too. And he’s just as much Emersyn’s dad as he is the other two. Blood doesn’t make a parent. Blood doesn’t make a family. Love makes both of those.
These people aren’t my family. And love is nowhere in sight in this house. It never was. It never will be.
“How can you be so crude?”
“How can you be so cold-hearted?”
She just shakes her head, and that’s when I stand up. There’s no point to this. They don’t love each other. My parents never have. Their marriage was one of convenience, so why should I be surprised by any of this?
“Where are you going?”
“Leaving.”
“You can’t leave. You can’t leave me to deal with your mess.”
I snort. I mean, what else can I gonna do?
“Forget I’m your daughter. I’ve already forgotten you’re my mother.”
And with that, I walk out, leaving and knowing this was never my family. Before I reach my car, I take out my cell and type out a message.
Me: I need you to do something for me. Meet me at Wicked Ink. DON’T TELL SHANE!
Shawn: You’re gonna have to give me an hour.
Me: That’s fine. It’ll take me an hour to get there. Leaving my parents now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Shane Braden
Problems don’t get solved at the bottom of a bottle. It sometimes takes the edge off, but that’s because it muddies your thought process. That’s what my brother wanted, though. Shawn thinks I need to stop thinking about it, so he keeps shoving glass after glass in front of me. That’s why I came up to his old bedroom at his house in Oxford.
That was two hours ago.
For two hours I’ve been lying with my back propped up against the wooden headboard in this room. This small, closed in room. It’s both a reprieve from the sympathetic eyes downstairs and like a noose, choking me.
Sleep won’t come because my brain won’t shut off. I used t
o love the twelve-hour shifts at the hospital. Sometimes even working longer than that. Before I moved to Memphis, I used to moonlight at another hospital, so I wouldn’t be alone in my thoughts.
I hate being alone. I hate the silence.
Silence is never that—silent.
Unless I tire my body out completely, my brain never stops.
I need Whitney. Where is she?
I thought once she got her memory back I’d finally be rewarded with peace. I wasn’t. Sure, I could breathe again, and the heaviness in my chest was mostly lifted, but peace never came. My mind never slowed down. Instead, it took a sharp turn and continued racing, just with different thoughts.
I had her. There’s been no doubt in my mind about that. She is mine—always and forever—heart, body, and soul. All three of them were. Are. Even when she was pissed and wasn’t speaking to me, she was still all mine.
But a nagging worry would never ease up. Fear of losing them. Fear of someone stealing them from me. Fear of something just like what happened yesterday gripped onto me and wouldn’t let go. Peace was never granted.
“Hey.”
My eyes pop open. I didn’t even realize I had closed them.
Looking over at the opened door, I see Whitney standing in the entryway with one hand holding the doorknob and the other raised, but behind the doorframe, out of my view.
“Can I come in?”
“You have to ask that?”
She shakes her head, walking through and closing the door behind her. “No.”
“Then why did you?”
Her feet bring her toward me. Her hands are behind her back. “Something to say I guess.”
She stops at the side of the bed. My fingers tingle at her closeness, needing to feel her.
Reaching out, I grip her jean-clad thigh, pulling her onto the bed, and then on top of me, straddling my center. She smiles down at me. With my other hand, my palm glides up her knee until I reach the column of her neck. Wrapping my hand around the back, I pull her down until her lips meet mine. I need them. I need to feel them, and I need her taste to filter through me.
She bites down on my lower lip. She always bites my lip when we kiss. And I love it. I’ll never get enough of her. It’s impossible.
More Than Memories: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 29