by J. D. Rivera
I knew my face had to be beet red with embarrassment. I had been ogling his body when I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who wants distance from me. I nodded and cleared my throat, averting my eyes. “It’s…it’s a great tattoo.”
When I managed to pull my gaze back to his, he was smirking. “How’s the boyfriend?”
“Good. He’s great,” I replied.
“You sure about that?” Did he think because I had been looking at his back I wasn’t happy with my boyfriend? When I didn’t answer, he clarified, “You don’t seem as happy today as you have been. That’s why I asked.”
I nodded. “Brad and I are fine. I just have…other stuff going on right now.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I replied, “No. I’m fine. Just stuff, nothing I can’t handle.” Did I wear my emotions on my sleeve? How did everyone know something was wrong with me? I had always believed I had everyone fooled into thinking I was happy. I guess I was wrong. And of all people, Carson didn’t even notice and he notices everything. “I’m going to run to the back really quick, can you watch my tables for five minutes?”
“Sure, no problem,” he answered as I marched in the direction of the break room.
I needed to check my phone to see if Brad had tried to contact me. I really did understand that he was busy at work, but texting someone takes ten seconds. If you miss someone and don’t want distance, ten seconds isn’t that hard to find.
I opened my locker door and pulled my purse out. My heart completely sank when I read the text on the screen.
Brad: Let me know when you get off work. We have to talk.
It was over already? He was really going to break up with me.
I tossed my phone back in my purse and scurried into the restroom to empty my stomach. My heart felt completely shattered, as if he had laid it out on a table and hit it with a hammer.
I exited the stall, splashed some water on my face, and washed my hands before making my way back to the bar. “You okay?” Gage asked, worry marring his face. “Are you sick?”
“I’ll be fine. Promise.”
“It’s slow, why don’t you head home. No offense, but you don’t look so good.” I didn’t feel too good either, but I didn’t want to leave work. I wanted to stay at work forever so I wouldn’t have to talk to Brad.
“I said I was fine,” I snapped as I whirled away toward my tables.
I checked on my tables, rolled silverware, filled ketchup bottles, and basically did any job I could find to keep me busy and away from Gage for the next two hours.
By the time I clocked out and walked to my car, my stomach was rolling, my head hurt, and my body ached. As soon as I sat down in my car, the floodgates opened and tears rained down my face.
We have to talk.
His text kept flashing through my mind.
We have to talk.
I cried harder, letting every bit of pain out. It seemed impossible to hurt this much, but it was real.
Sniffing, my tears finally stopped, and I searched my car for anything I could wipe my face with. Finally, my hand brushed against a piece of fabric and yanked it toward me. Without looking, I wiped my face and instantly wanted to cry again. The fabric was Brad’s T-shirt and his scent clung to it.
Somehow, I was able to hold the tears at bay and clear my face well enough to drive. Tossing the shirt in the passenger seat, I cranked the engine of my car and drove home.
I put off contacting Brad and took a shower instead. I felt dirty, used. Lied to. But I didn’t really have a right. I had been lying. Brad said he loved me, but he didn’t even know me. In the end, I could really only be mad at myself. Hurt by myself. I stuck my head under the spray and let the rest of my tears fall. I had wanted to feel wanted so badly, I diluted myself. I loved Brad, but he really only loved who I wanted him to see.
I allowed my body the cathartic release it truly needed. I felt so drained, so empty, so numb, I didn’t really have the energy to take on anymore for the day. But I knew I needed to. I needed to hear what he had to say and I needed to make the ultimate choice. Did I really have what it took to fight for Brad?
I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my body, and another around my hair before picking up my phone.
Me: I just got home.
I kept it short and sweet when I really wanted to beg him to give me another chance.
Brad: Can you meet me at my place? I’m finishing up some stuff.
No! I wanted to type it, but I didn’t.
Me: Sure.
After throwing on some ripped jeans and an old T-shirt, I drove to Brad’s apartment. His truck was in the parking lot and I instantly wanted to turn my car around and leave. But that would be cowardly. I needed to pull my big girl panties on and get this over with.
I knocked on the door and waited. It didn’t take long for him to open the door and motion me in. After stepping inside, I turned to face him. “Hi,” I said lamely.
“Hey.” He bit his lip and looked at every inch of his living room, everywhere except where I was standing. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, finally looking at me.
Why in the hell would he offer me a drink? “No. I’m fine. I think I’d rather get this talk done and over with.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. Why don’t you sit down?”
“No,” I replied. “I’d rather stand, thanks.”
He sighed. “Okay. I’m…I’ve tried to think of different ways to say this…I don’t want to upset you.”
He didn’t want to upset me? That wasn’t going to be possible. “Just spit it out,” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.
He mirrored my stance, running a hand through his short beard. “Why didn’t you tell me your ex-boyfriend was still contacting you? Or were you playing us both?”
I sucked in a breath as the blood drained from my face. He wasn’t breaking up with me because I wouldn’t tell him my secret. He was ending it because he already knew. Had he used his detective skills and tracked my phone? How the hell did he know Preston had been contacting me? Then, it hit me. “Fucking Carson,” I muttered.
“I thought he was your cousin or something.”
“He is,” I replied. “But I don’t know how else you’d know Preston had been harassing me.”
“Harassing you?” he whispered, dropping his arms and taking a breath. His eyes narrowed and I could see anger building in them. “So, Carson knew your ex was contacting you, but you couldn’t trust me, your boyfriend, with that information? That’s real nice.”
It wasn’t anger I saw, it was hurt. “How the hell did you find out he was calling me? Did you research me or something?” And if he had, I was sure he knew about my stint in rehab. How had I not thought of this before now? He’s a detective.
“The research kinda came to me,” he said evasively.
Tears began to pool in my eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”
His hands fisted at his sides, showing a side of Brad I hadn’t seen before. Maybe it should have scared me, but it didn’t. “Saturday night, I worked a homicide investigation. The guy took a fucking bullet to the back of the head. And guess what I found when I was combing through his cell phone records this morning?” He paused, but I didn’t say anything. I already knew what he was going to say. “I found out the guy had been calling my girlfriend for weeks!”
Preston is dead? Did he really just tell me Preston is dead? Murdered?
“I’m sorry,” I said weakly. “I didn’t want you to know because…”
“Because what?” he shouted.
Fuck it. We were over anyway. “I didn’t want you to find out I’m an addict!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Remember me telling you I wrecked my truck? Well, I was fucking high. I had just graduated high school and I went to see my boyfriend, Preston Wilson. I was high when I left, but I was almost out. When I got there, he was screwing some girl on the hood of his dad’s car. I knew he was a che
ater, but I thought I loved him and ignored it. He kept me high and that was all I cared about. After, I learned my love for him was my love for cocaine. I let him do whatever he wanted because that’s how I never ran out. But when I saw him, I didn’t know how to handle it. I snorted some of his stash and I lost it. We argued and he pushed me into the side of a toolbox, that’s how I got this.” I paused my word vomit to pull my pants down and my shirt up as I turned to the side. I knew he had already seen the scar, but he’d never asked about it. “He beat the shit out of me, knocking me unconscious. When I woke up, I was alone. And I was so fucking messed up because all I could think about was drugs. I needed a hit to deal with the shit storm. I took my ass beating and he didn’t keep his end of the deal. That’s how fucked up I was. I got in my truck, craving more than I ever had, and tried to speed home. I wound up crashing my truck. My parents found out about my cocaine use and I was shipped off to rehab.” I heaved a deep breath. “And then a few weeks ago, he started calling and sending me text messages. That enough info for you?”
His eyes were wide as he stared at me. I pushed passed him, running to my car. I had to get out of there and away from him.
Chapter 28
Brad
I stood there, stunned out of my mind as she ran past me and out the door.
Miranda was an addict?
She had never shown any signs of being an ex-user. I had no idea that would be her big secret.
When I had learned the victim’s name was Preston Wilson, it didn’t even register in my mind that it could be Miranda’s ex. It wasn’t until I was combing through cell phone records that I noticed my girlfriend’s number listed several times. I had sat there staring at the records, dumbfounded for a good ten minutes. Why the hell had he been calling and texting her? It was a relief to see she had only answered twice. Once a couple weeks ago and the other right before he died.
What the hell?
I needed answers. Not just for myself, though. I needed answers for the investigation. She might’ve heard something or he may have said something to her before it happened.
And answers I got. She gave me a whole hell of a lot of personal answers, but she had stormed out before I was able to ask anything that would help with the investigation. Though, at that point, I wasn’t worried about the investigation—I was worried about her.
I grabbed my keys and dashed out of my apartment, running to my truck. Cranking the engine and shutting the door at the same time, I pulled out of the parking lot as fast as possible.
If I was being honest with myself, I knew I never would have dated her if I had known she was an addict. Being a cop, you see a lot of people messed up on drugs and most of those people end up relapsing. But I hadn’t known that and I had fallen in love with her—all of her. That meant I’d accept her, flaws and all.
I wheeled into her apartment complex and parked. Her car wasn’t in the parking lot, but I rushed to the door and knocked anyway. Nobody answered, so I banged again. And again. Finally, I realized she probably wasn’t home.
I got back in my truck and called her number, but I was sent directly to voicemail. Shit! She’d turned her phone off. I knew she wouldn’t receive any texts, but I sent one anyway in hopes she’d see it as soon as she turned her phone on.
Me: Talk to me. I love you.
I had no idea where she’d went but I decided to go to Mackenzie’s, just in case. Plus, Hayes would be able to contact Carson. After that, the only person I could think of was that asshole bartender and I couldn’t let my mind go there—I’d go crazy.
Pulling into Mackenzie’s driveway, I glanced around the street, but didn’t see Miranda’s car. My heart sank. I’d been hoping and praying I’d find her here. I popped open my door and walked to the door. Taking one last deep breath, I knocked.
A minute later, Mackenzie opened the door. “Brad?”
“Hey,” I answered as I stepped inside.
Mackenzie followed behind me. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what’s up?”
I sank down on the couch. “Have you seen or heard from Miranda in the last hour?”
“No, why?” she asked as Hayes entered the room. “What’s up?” he asked, sitting down in the chair and grabbing the remote.
I blew out a breath. “We…I don’t even know. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fight, but she stormed out of my apartment and now I can’t find her.”
“Did you call her?” Mackenzie asked.
“Of course. It went straight to voicemail.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, leaning my head back on the couch cushion. I had no idea what to do.
“Carson might know. They’re pretty close,” Hayes offered, reminding me.
“Can you ask him?”
“Sure. Just a sec,” he replied, standing up to grab his phone from the kitchen counter. “You want me to call or can I text him?”
“Call him!” I yelled and he blinked in surprise. “Sorry. Can you call him, please?”
“No problem.” He dialed the number and waited. “Hey, have you seen Miranda?... Brad’s looking for her… She finally told him what?” He locked eyes with me as Carson filled him in on the other side of the phone. “Oh, that,” he replied, and I realized I was the only clueless ass she hadn’t told. “Yeah, okay,” he said before disconnecting and tossing his phone back on the counter.
“So…” he began, “she told you about…”
“Yeah. She was kinda forced to tell me.”
“What are you two talking about? Finally told him what?” Mackenzie asked with confusion.
Hayes looked at me. “Honestly, I was kinda in my own world when that happened. I only heard the rumors and I never felt the need to ask her. It wasn’t my story to tell.”
“Are you talking about her bad breakup with her ex? Why would that be a big deal?” She glanced between the two of us, instantly knowing there was more to the story. “What the hell, Hayes?” Mackenzie yelled. “What are y’all not telling me? She’s my best friend!”
He held his hands up. “Calm down.” He waited for her to settle. “Like I said, I only know the rumors so I have no idea what was truth and what wasn’t. And, for the record,” he glanced at me, “I think anyone can change and I’m positive Miranda has.”
“I’m waiting,” Mackenzie huffed.
“Okay, so I guess that guy she was dating our senior year got her hooked on heroin or meth or cocaine, I can’t remember. And she spent her summer after graduation in rehab.”
“And you never thought to tell me? I could’ve…I don’t know, I could’ve been there for her! And hello, I thought we were a team. We’re not supposed to keep things from each other.”
Hayes lifted his arms and shoulders. “I have no idea if any of that is true. And, babe, I’m a guy. I had no idea you would care. If Carson had a past like that, I wouldn’t feel like I had to know.”
She stood up and stormed down the hallway, muttering, “I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”
“Because I know how to make you feel good in bed!” he hollered back and I knew it was time for me to go.
“So, Carson didn’t know where she was?”
“No. Sorry. He just said he was relieved she finally told you so you could protect her.” Oh, I’d protect her all right, but not from the guy he was thinking about. I’d just protect her period. If I could find her.
I nodded. “If you hear from her, let me know.”
“Will do,” he replied. “Now, I have to go apologize for keeping secrets and saying that to her.”
I left and drove by Mario’s on my way home just in case her car was there, but of course, it wasn’t. By the time I drove home and dropped on my bed, I was tired. Closing my eyes didn’t help—every single day I had spent with Miranda flashed through my mind as if on repeat.
Sleep never came and by morning, I was a complete mess. I was terrified I’d lost her because she couldn’t trust me enough to accept her past mistakes. I was pis
sed because her cell phone was still turned off. I had no idea if she was safe. What if she’d been in a car wreck? I had no fucking clue.
My phone started ringing from the kitchen counter and I raced toward it, only to deflate when I saw it was Hayes.
“Hello?”
“Morning.”
“Do you know where she is?” I barked.
“I do.”
Sighing, I asked. “Where is she?”
“At her parents’ house in Maverick. I called my sister and asked her to drive by and see if her car was there.”
“You thought of that?”
“What can I say? I’m pretty damn smart. Gotta pen or something? I’ll give you the address.”
I grabbed a pen and he rattled off the address. “Hayes?”
“Yeah?”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“I’ve been there, unfortunately. Go get your girl back.” I disconnected and was on my way to do exactly that. I was going to get my girl.
***
A few hours later, I was wiping the sweat off my hands and knocking on her parents’ door. I stepped back and waited before a salt and pepper haired man in his mid-fifties answered.
“Yes?”
“Hi…is Miranda here?”
His brows pinched together as he looked me up and down. Crossing his hands over his chest, he asked, “And who are you?”
I honestly didn’t know what to say, but I settled on the truth. “I’m her boyfriend, Brad Nicholson.”
I stuck my hand out, but he just glared at it. “Are you the one who upset her?”
Oh, hell. “Uh, yeah, I guess I am. But I’m here to make it right.”
“And what did you do?” He glared at me.
“I questioned her about her ex-boyfriend. She misunderstood the situation and got upset.”
“If you are anything, anything like that scumbag Preston Wilson, I will kill you.”