by Jayne Frost
Anxiety churned in my belly. For years, even when Rhenn was alive, we’d laughed off rumors about the nature of my relationship with Dylan. The way he looked at me. Smiled at me.
“That’s why you signed Harper? Because of the tape?”
Taryn looked down at her hands. “I couldn’t tell you, Belle. Dylan … he was out of his mind with worry. He just wanted it to go away. So I made it happen.”
I nodded. “I get it.” I really did. Not that I agreed with the cover-up. “What are the chances that Mac doesn’t know?”
She peered up at me through a fringe of heavy lashes. “Zero.”
All the air left my body. A bargaining chip. Now I just had to wait for Mac to cash it in.
“It’s a good thing I was there, then.” I tried to reclaim my breath with little luck. “We need to get ahead of this thing, T-Rex. Set up a meeting with Trevor for tomorrow.”
41
Precisely at four, I climbed the steps of the modest, two-story brick house.
“What are you doing here? an inner voice demanded, as if the question might get me to turn tail and run. Just like I had this afternoon when I sat in front of my sister’s building, gazing up at her window from the driver’s seat of Tori’s Shelby.
Instead of going inside and facing my real family, I’d sped off. And now I was here, dressed like an imposter in my best jeans and a long-sleeved button-down, holding the bouquet of flowers I’d bought to impress Tori’s mother.
It would take more than roses if the woman was anything like her daughter.
Blowing out a breath, I rang the bell before I lost my nerve.
A moment later, the door swung open, and I met Tori’s smile. “You made it.”
That scent I loved so well, the sugar and spice that clung to her skin, wafted to my nose, chasing away the doubts I had about coming.
“Yeah, I would’ve made it sooner, but you told me to keep it under ninety,” I said as I stepped over the threshold and into her space.
She peered up at me with a bemused smile. “How about you leave five minutes earlier so you don’t have to go ninety?”
Dipping my head, I pressed a feather light kiss to the corner of her mouth and whispered, “What fun would that be?”
Her pretty pink tongue darted out, slicking her bottom lip, like she was daring me to taste her. I leaned in again, only to be interrupted by thundering footsteps on the stairs.
“Is that Logan?” Zoe asked as she bounded into the room. Shouldering her way past her sister, she smiled up at me. “I knew it was you.”
They may not have shared DNA, but the sisters had the same furrowed brow when something didn’t sit well with them. And it was on full display when Zoe noticed the bouquet. “You brought flowers?” she asked, wrinkling her nose for good measure. “That’s kind of lame.”
Jabbing her sister in the ribs, Tori hissed, “Zoe, what’s the matter with you?”
The kid didn’t flinch, just assessed me with pursed lips like I’d committed the unforgivable crime of being uncool.
Fishing the velvet bag out of my pocket, I bounced it in my hand, which immediately caught Zoe’s attention. Her blue eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the little pouch. “What’s that?”
“Something I picked up for you at one of the shops at the Arboretum.” Tossing the bag high, I snatched it out of the air. “It’s probably lame though.”
Shifting my focus to Tori, I found her smiling. Not her regular smile. But the one that softened her features and melted my heart.
“You bought me something?” Zoe asked, all her bravado gone. “Like a present?”
Pressing the bag into her waiting palm, I smiled at the kid. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not much.”
Zoe loosened the drawstrings while I rocked back on my heels, waiting for her reaction. Lifting the rose gold and leather bracelet, her eyes widened. “Oh my God!” She ran her finger over the sterling silver heart engraved with the Z in the center. “Look, Tor. It’s got my initial.”
Leaning over Zoe’s slender shoulder, Tori examined the trinket like it was fine jewelry. “It’s beautiful. Let me help you put it on.”
After securing the bracelet to Zoe’s wrist, Tori said to the kid, “That’s really cool.”
Zoe glanced at the bouquet. “Better than your flowers.” Blinking up at me, her mouth opened and closed like a guppy. “Sorry.”
But she wasn’t, and that’s why I laughed. “These are for your mom.”
Zoe’s pale brows drew together. “So you didn’t get anything for my sister?”
“Oh … I did.” Shifting my focus to Tori, I winked. “I’ll give it to you later, ’kay?”
A flush spread from Tori’s chest, crept north and settled in her cheeks. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”
Zoe looked between us and feigned a gag. “Gross. I’m going to tell Mom.”
And off she went, blond ponytail swinging behind her with Tori in hot pursuit.
My girl was right. This house was filled with love. Affection lingered in the space like a living thing. Warm. Inviting.
Following the laughter, a smile ticked up the corners of my lips. But as I ambled down the hallway, another feeling took hold—dread—and my feet stopped moving. I’d experienced déjà vu before. Everyone had. But this was different. In another life, or another time, I’d been here. In this exact space.
My head swiveled to the right, my chest constricting when I found the photo of the woman I’d met on the worst night of my life. I knew it would be there. Because when my father had come to collect us the morning after, I’d stood in this very spot. That’s what the lady in the fluffy robe with the kind eyes and the soft voice had told me to do.
“Don’t move, sugar. Everything will be okay.” I forgave her that lie. Because she’d believed it. So much that she’d stood up to my father. And the policeman he’d had with him. And all the while, I’d stood there, here, memorizing her photo. Because I knew my dad would win. He always won. And when he did, I didn’t want to forget the lady. What she looked like.
Back then, I wasn’t tall enough to reach the picture. And there was a glare that bounced off the glass from the single bulb in the hallway. Maybe that’s why I’d always believed her to be an angel.
But now, I had to look down to see the familiar amber eyes staring back at me from the photo. It wasn’t Tori. But the resemblance was uncanny. Same raven hair. Same straight nose. The mouth was a little different, and the eyes more cognac than honey. But still, why didn’t I see it before? A door slammed, catapulting me into the present. Only I didn’t feel present. My knees were weak, my palms sweaty, and the pain in my chest threatened to break me in half.
Stumbling forward a couple of steps, I braced my hand on the table and tried to catch my breath. But I couldn’t. It was like my lungs were reduced to the size of walnuts, so small no air could get in.
“Logan?”
That soft voice from long ago and a warm hand on my arm. Only it was now. And when I turned to the sound, she was there. Older, yes. Twenty-one years older. But the face was the same. And the smile. Full of sadness and pity.
I took it then, that smile. Because at eight, I didn’t know what pity was. I only knew that the lady was kind. And her house smelled like cookies. And she made me macaroni and cheese and let me cry silent tears for my dead mother at her kitchen table.
I pulled my shoulders back. Somehow, I did it. And unlike then, I looked down at her. Because she was small, like her daughter.
“What’s your name?” I heard myself ask.
“Tessa.”
I really appreciate this, Tessa.
Blocking out the officer’s voice, I swallowed around the thick lump in my throat. “Do you know who I am?”
My voice was rough, my questions rudimentary, because I couldn’t hold a thought. My mind was too consumed with images of that night.
Tessa’s thumb swept back and forth over my arm, a soothing touch I could feel through the fabric of my shirt. “
Yes, honey. I do.”
“And Victoria …?” My voice cracked, the rest of my words falling into shards at my feet.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s your private business.”
There was so much I wanted to ask. But then the door slammed again, and I heard Tori’s voice. And I realized, I couldn’t be here. Not like this, with my stomach turned inside out and my guts exposed.
“I have to go.” The thought raced from my lips at lightning speed.
Tessa blinked at me, brow pinched with concern. But she didn’t protest.
She simply nodded, that smile frozen on her lips. “Okay.”
I headed for the door. “Tell Victoria …”
The rest of the sentiment was lost to the humid summer evening when I stumbled onto the porch. Adrenaline flooded my veins, and though I’d never run from anything in my life, that’s exactly what I did now. I ran. From Victoria. And the house that smelled like cookies but reminded me of nothing but death.
42
The storm came out of nowhere. Dark clouds dogging me as I made the drive from my parents’ house just after nine.
In the cup holder, my phone sat idle, and the words from Logan’s one and only text battered the inside of my skull.
I’ll make it up to you.
No apology.
No explanation.
That was three hours ago. And I hadn’t heard from him since.
By the time I pulled up to my gate, rain fell in sheets. Blinking against the downpour, I punched in my security code and then sped up the drive, my heart fumbling when the headlights picked up a glimmer of red paint. As I got closer, and the Shelby came into focus, the driver’s door open with no one inside. And then I saw Logan, perched on my front steps with his head bowed and his elbows on his knees. Water dripped from his nose. His chin. His fingertips. But he didn’t seem to notice.
For a moment, I forgot why I was mad at him. And that’s all it took, one moment, and I was out of the car, calling his name over the driving rain.
He didn’t look up. Not until I was so close our knees touched. And then slowly, he lifted his gaze, vacant blue orbs roaming over my face. “Victoria.”
I cupped his cheek, and he leaned into me, ignoring the rain threading his long lashes and spilling onto his face.
“Lo … you’re scaring me.” My voice cracked. “What is it?”
He let his head fall forward. And a second later when a shiver raced through him, I felt it all the way to my bones. I took a step back, ready to run to my car and get my phone so I could call for help, but he grabbed my hand.
“Don’t go,” he implored with pale blue eyes that spoke of a cruel winter but warmed me like the summer sun. So I nodded and sat beside him, fused from shoulder to knee while he held my one hand between both of his.
The rain eased, leaving only tiny tears staining the fallen leaves and other casualties of the storm.
Us … we were the casualties. Logan and me. But in that moment, I saw nothing but a shiny new world illuminated by the moon peeking from behind heavy clouds. Hope and warmth and promise spread from the place we were joined.
And for the second time in my life, I fell in love.
43
The rain passed, but not the storm. I felt the hurricane gathering force beneath my skin, and even Tori’s fingers, laced with mine, mooring me to my spot, couldn’t stop it. She spoke to me without words, but it was another voice, a louder voice, that beckoned.
Jake’s.
“You’re worthless, boy. Always have been. Prove me wrong, why don’t you?”
And I had, over and over.
His face was the target of every punch. And it was his blood that stained my fists after every fight. But it didn’t matter, because the voice remained.
Jerking to my feet, I headed toward the Shelby, heavy boots splashing the shallow puddles on the flagstone path.
“Lo?”
My name on Tori’s lips was like a lasso around my heart.
I skidded to a stop but didn’t turn around. Because seeing her there, in the shadow of the life a better man had built for her … that was too much. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
Tori’s tone held nothing but concern I didn’t deserve. But when I spun around to tell her so, the wispy clouds stretching across the moon parted just enough to illuminate her face. The blue tinging her lips and the soft chatter of her teeth snapped me out of my downward spiral.
I cut the distance between us and crouched in front of her, my fingers flexing with the need to warm her. But not before I calmed the fuck down. “I’m just going to lock up the car. I’ll be right back.”
Nodding, she rubbed her arms. “C-can you grab my keys. And there’s some s-stuff on the passenger seat, too.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead before I stood. “Sure.”
Blowing out a breath, I made my way down the path, regaining my focus with each step. Guilt replaced any lingering anger when I noticed the standing water pooled on the seat of Tori’s classic car. It didn’t matter that I could fix it, whatever the cost. It mattered that I broke it in the first place. I yanked off my shirt, doing my best to wick the moisture from the floorboard.
I was five minutes into my clean-up project when my gaze shifted to Tori, shivering on the steps with her eyes on the heavens. Her lips moved, and I wondered if she was praying. To God? Rhenn? Paige?
With one last look at the mess I vowed to clean in the morning, I locked up the Shelby and jogged over to the SUV where a pink bakery box waited on the passenger seat. I peeked inside, and the kernel of guilt threatened to choke me when I saw a quarter of a cake with Happy scrawled at the top in burgundy icing, buttercream roses in shades of pink nestled into the white frosting.
With a sigh, I slung Tori’s worn backpack over my shoulder, grabbed the box, and headed up the walk.
“Whose birthday was it?” I asked quietly.
Tori took the keys with a trembling hand. “Mine.”
Dumbfounded and rooted to my spot, I blinked at her retreating back as she pushed her way through the door.
“Yours?” I managed when I finally stepped inside.
She nodded as she set the alarm. “It’s not for another ten days, but since I’m going to be on the road …” A small lift of one slender shoulder. “My parents surprised me. I didn’t know about it.”
Shivering in earnest now, her toes curled into the unforgiving marble as she looked anywhere but at me. I’d ruined her party.
I’ll make it up to you.
I didn’t say it, but it was true nonetheless.
Closing the gap between us, I took her elbow. “How about a warm bath?”
She smiled, gazing up at me through her lashes. “Okay.”
Up the stairs we went, but instead of turning into the room where we’d slept last night, Tori headed straight for the double doors at the end of the hallway.
She gripped the knob, but then her head fell forward. I felt her turmoil, tasted it on my tongue as she hovered between her new life, the one with me in it, and the broken fairy tale that still lived on the other side of the door.
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder. And I waited.
Long moments later, she turned the knob and stepped over the threshold. Fighting to maintain the small smile pinned to her lips, she twisted her hands in front of her.
“This is my room.”
But it wasn’t. This was their room. I took the invitation and followed her into her past. The space was large, with a masculine four poster bed facing the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the grounds. Two couches and an overstuffed chair cupped the fireplace in the corner. But it was the wall of framed photos I gravitated toward. While Tori shuffled to the adjoining bathroom, I glanced over the memories from her prom, the first Damaged tour, and her wedding. Not a single picture from the years following Rhenn’s death. And I wondered if she realized that.
With a knot in my stomach, I followed the sound of t
he running water and found Tori perched on the side of a marble soaking tub. Some of my tension eased as I looked around, because this room, this oasis, it was all her.
As if she could read my thoughts, Tori gazed up at the crystal chandelier. “I designed this room myself. All the fixtures, and this tub.” She ran a hand over the snow-white marble. “I imported it from Italy.” Her eyes caught mine and held. And she smiled. “There’s plenty of room for two if you’d like to join me.”
Water sloshed over the side of the tub when I tipped forward with a bite of cake on the plastic fork. “Open.”
Tori’s lids fluttered, and she shook her head. “Ugh … no more. I’m so full.”
I popped the tidbit into my mouth. “More for me.”
She smiled when I settled back and started massaging her foot again.
“You never wear shoes,” I noted. “Must be a rich girl thing.”
Tori pushed herself up, curiosity twisting her brow. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head and shrugged, a little embarrassed that I’d let the thought slip out. She splashed water at me.
“Tell me,” she said.
I dug my fingers into her arch. “Anna doesn’t wear shoes either.” Tori’s smile wilted around the edges, and I chuckled. “I told you we were roommates. You notice shit like that when you live with someone.” I realized how that sounded, like we were living together, Tori and me, so I quickly amended, “Or spend a lot of time together.”
She hummed. “Okay … but I still don’t understand the ‘rich girl’ comparison. My dad was a cop. Not much money in that.”
“He probably made more than a part-time bouncer. And as far as the shoes go, in the trailer park where I grew up, you couldn’t walk around barefoot. There were no lawns, just dried grass and broken bottles. So you wore shoes, even if they were two sizes too small with holes in them.”
I forced my lips to bend as I offered the small confession. Maybe if I revealed enough of the shit that floated to the top, Tori wouldn’t want to deep dive into the cesspool for more details.