Busted (Barnes Brothers #3)

by Shiloh Walker

  Because it wasn’t like it was anybody else.

  “Your fault, girl,” she murmured as she climbed out of bed. “Your fault.”

  She grabbed her robe and tugged it on as she went to answer the door. A glance through the peephole showed it was indeed her aunt.

  “Latrice is sick.” Angeline sailed through the door, looking around the house. “Where’s Neeci?”

  “She’s asleep . . . we weren’t leaving for a while yet.”

  “Well, we need to find alternate arrangements or cancel.”

  “Granny?”

  Mama Ang met her eyes. Angeline MacAllister was five feet four inches of softness and steel and for a moment, a thousand unsaid things passed between them.

  Then Angeline looked up the steps toward the little girl.

  “Hey there, baby. Come give me a hug.”

  Neeci plodded down the steps, her Frozen pj’s rumpled, her hair mussed.

  A few minutes later, Angeline had Neeci on her way to the kitchen, giving the two women a moment of peace.

  “We can’t cancel,” Ressa said softly. “Kiara is up to something . . . or there’s something we need to know. I have to know what it is, for Neeci’s sake.”

  Angeline blew out a breath. “The good Lord knows I’d like to tell you that you’re just being paranoid, but I know my girl too well. Okay, then. We’ll have to take her with us if you don’t have anybody who can watch her. I called everybody I know. Can you check with Farrah?”

  “She’s working today.” Her heart thudded in her chest.

  A sigh escaped her mother and she saw those slim shoulders slump.

  Swallowing, Ressa cleared her throat. “I might be able to find somebody,” she said softly. “Just let me . . .”

  She turned away. “Let me get dressed.”

  She hadn’t turned away fast enough, because a few minutes later, while she was getting dressed, her aunt slipped into her bedroom.

  Ressa looked over her shoulder at her aunt. “Mama Ang, that door was closed.” Closed, because she needed a few minutes to get herself together before she called Trey. “I need to shower, get dressed. Is Neeci eating?”

  “You can shower and get dressed in a minute. Yes, Neeci is eating.” Angeline cocked her head. “You didn’t sleep again last night.”

  Clearly the comment about the closed door didn’t matter. Closed doors, raging rivers, and the fires of hell wouldn’t matter, not if she thought the happiness of her girls was at stake. She hadn’t been able to help Kiara, although she’d tried. It had all but broken her heart, too, because she thought she’d failed.

  Apparently hellfire, damnation, and closed doors weren’t going to stop her when it came to the other young woman she loved.

  “I did sleep.” Ressa shrugged and looked away, moving to grab clothes from her closet since her aunt obviously wasn’t leaving. “I just haven’t been sleeping all that great since that last call from Kiara. Every time I think she’s going to get her act together . . .” She shrugged and hoped Mama Ang would let it go at that.

  “Uh-huh.” The doubt was practically dripping from her aunt’s voice. “I might buy that, except you’re used to your cousin. You’ve dealt with her bullshit too well and you’ve never let it cost you sleep before. Now. Try again.”

  “I’m fine, Mama Ang,” she said.

  “Hmm.” That sound was loaded with doubt. A moment passed and then Angeline said, “Neeci tells me you sorta kinda have a boyfriend. Since you’re clearly so fine, I assume I’ll meet him soon?”

  The words, delivered in a laid-back, neutral tone poked a hole through the wall she’d been constructing around herself. She didn’t even realize how precarious that wall was, or how brittle she felt, until the tears clogged her throat and burned her eyes.

  Ressa turned away and clapped a hand over her mouth. Struggling to hold back the sniffles, she waved her aunt back when she saw her coming up in the mirror.

  “Oh, don’t you go pushing me away,” Angeline said. She caught Ressa around the waist, oblivious to the fact that Ressa had four inches on her.

  And Ressa let the older woman pull her in, dropping her head to rest it on Angeline’s shoulder as she fought not to cry. “We . . . we can’t do this now,” she whispered.

  “We can take a few minutes, baby. Now, you tell me what’s wrong.”

  Ressa shook her head. “But . . .”

  “No buts. You’ve been holding this in too long. You always hold things in too long. We can take ten minutes and you will tell me what is wrong.”

  Slowly, Ressa lifted her head and met her aunt’s eyes. She was a grown woman. She could handle her own love life, right? Opening her mouth, she thought about just saying that, explaining that . . .

  But that wasn’t what came rushing out of her in a torrent.

  “I met somebody, Mama Ang. I like him. Hell, that doesn’t describe him. I think I could . . .” She pulled away to pace, unable to stay still. That gaping hole inside her seemed to spread and it just got worse if she was still. “I can’t even think about it. I don’t want to think about it because it can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen and it hurts. I never should have let myself think anything should come of it.”

  Dimly, she was aware of her aunt moving to settle on the edge of her bed, just as she’d done when Ressa had been struggling to adjust to a new life, a new home, a new school where she thought she’d never fit in.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t supposed to even happen, you know? Then it did, and it should have just been sex, and that was all well and good, but it ended . . .” Heat rushed up the back of her neck, but she ignored it. She’d been able to talk to her aunt about sex before—it wasn’t like she hadn’t already known what it was before Mama Ang had found her and brought her here.

  But they were open about it. It made it easier. Still, she wasn’t going to tell the woman watching her with arched brows that Trey Barnes could fuck like a dream, and that he could do something simple like kiss her hand and melt her heart.

  “It ended,” she finished lamely. “It was supposed to be a weekend thing. Then I ran into him again at Neeci’s school and . . .” She closed her eyes, stopping once more by the dresser. “I can’t quit thinking about him. He’s in my head. In my heart. Under my skin, all the time. And it can’t happen. At least, I don’t think it can. It shouldn’t. It’s too complicated, too messed up.” She finally stumbled to a halt.

  “Okay,” Angeline said, her voice a soft, steadying presence in the uneasy silence. “Let’s set aside the it can’t happen part and focus on the rest. Does he feel the same way about you?”

  She dropped her hands and looked at her mother. “Yeah. I think he does.” No, she knew he did. And that made it so much harder.

  “Then why can’t it happen?” Angeline just looked curious.

  “Because of who he is,” she said. As her aunt continued to watch her, she turned away, shame slipping its way inside. “And . . .”

  Silence was an ugly thing. She couldn’t get the words now, but after a few taut, heavy seconds, she didn’t have to. Her aunt did it. “How much of this is because of your past . . . and how much is because of Kiara?”

  “It’s all of it,” she whispered, unable to swallow down the shame.

  A warm hand smoothed up her arm then came to rest on her shoulder. “And here I was thinking you just needed me to boot you in the butt because you’d fallen for a white boy. Oh, Neeci told me that, too, and you oughta know I’d smack you over that—it doesn’t matter who you fall for, not to me and it shouldn’t matter to you. Love is love and you know that.” Angeline sighed. “I’m sorry. Because it sounds like that’s where you’re at. Now if he’s ashamed to be with you because of your cousin . . .”

  “He’s not.” The words came out in a snap and she spun to stare at her aunt, the anger boiling up inside her.

  Angeline inclined her head. “Oh?” She nodded. “Okay, then you’ve told him about your
past. About the mistakes you made and he isn’t okay with it?”

  Ressa looked away as Angeline narrowed cool eyes on her.

  Now she felt like she’d been caught sneaking out the window or something—and yes, she’d done that. More than once. Fighting the urge to fidget, she stared at her aunt, refusing to blink or look away. She was an adult, damn it.

  “Please tell me that you are not the reason this can’t work out,” Angeline said quietly. “If he’s the kind of guy who has accepted you, and your cousin, then you had better figure out how to make this make sense to me. You had better not tell me that you are the one standing in the way. That you’re not letting your cousin or your past hold you back from a man who can make you happy.”

  “It’s more complicated than that!” The knot that had settled inside her chest tried to take over, the emptiness inside tried to swallow her whole.

  “Why? Because of who he is? Okay, then tell me who he is that makes this so impossible,” Angeline demanded.

  That caustic tone left her floundering for words. “He’s . . . he’s . . .”

  “He’s a writer.”

  The words came from behind them. The door, open just a crack, and as they turned their heads, Neeci slipped inside, looking at Ressa with vaguely accusatory eyes.

  Fuck a duck, Ressa thought sourly. “Neeci, this doesn’t concern you,” she said softly.

  Neeci ignored her, staring at her grandmother. “He’s a writer, Granny Ang. Auntie Ressa has bunches of his book at her li’bary and his brother is famous. He’s in movies and he’s really hot and I might want to marry him because he’s so hot.”

  Ressa just stared at her cousin. Where did she learn about hot?

  Angeline made a low hmmmm under her breath. “It makes a little more sense now . . . I think. Although I’m curious as to who this writer and the hot brother is. By the way, Neeci, you can get married when you’re fifty and after you’re done with college. And no more talking about hot boys until you’re twenty-five.” She winked at her granddaughter and then nodded. “Now you go on back downstairs and let me deal with your cousin. I’ve only got about two minutes left to knock some sense into her hard head.”

  Neeci giggled and disappeared.

  Angeline sighed.

  Feeling the weight, and the command, in her aunt’s stare, Ressa turned to face her.

  “I don’t know if I want to shake you or hug you, child.” Angeline just shook her head instead. “I take it you’re concerned about what it might look like when and if things come out.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” she said defensively.

  “It’s an understandable concern. And tell me something.” Angeline gazed at the door for a long minute before looking back at Ressa. “Are you going to tell that little girl she never has the right to fall in love . . . with whoever she wants. That if she ever makes a mistake, she’d just better resign herself to an empty life? Are you going to be the one to tell her she better never fall for a rich man, a famous man—or any man she wants—because of what her mother did?”

  Fury lit inside her and she opened her mouth—only to close it, sagging against the wall.

  “I didn’t think so,” Angeline said, lifting an elegant black brow. “Did you explain things to him?”

  “Not . . .” It came out in a rough whisper. She cleared her throat. “Not all of it. He knows about . . . me. Most of it. And he knows that Kiara’s in jail, although I didn’t explain all of that.”

  Angeline came to her then, reached up to lay a hand on her cheek. “It is hard. I think about the fool things you did, and how she was so stupid to get involved—it’s not like she needed money. I think about everything that happened with Scott . . . and Sharon. Yes . . . it is hard. But you were the one to step up and do the right thing. She tried to hide. She made those mistakes—she did them and they are hers, hers alone. Not yours. And not mine.”

  “Of course they weren’t yours!”

  Angeline leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ressa’s cheek.

  Ressa breathed in the scent of White Diamonds—the only perfume Mama Ang ever wore. The familiar scent wrapped around her like a comfortable hug and impulsively, she embraced the smaller woman. Angeline caught her up in her arms and Ressa tucked her head against her aunt’s shoulder.

  “No,” Angeline said softly. “They weren’t my mistakes. We did what we could. We tried to help, not just once . . . but a hundred times. She made her choices. She has to face the consequences. Just as you’ve had to deal with yours. But this isn’t a consequence you should have to face . . . walking away from a man you can love.”

  “But what if . . .”

  “No.” Angeline leaned back, shifting so she could grasp Ressa’s arms. “No what ifs. You haven’t given either of you a chance. Don’t you deserve that? At least that?”

  When Ressa didn’t answer, Angeline smiled. “Somewhere inside, you already know the answer. Now stop being foolish and go after him. Sometimes we only get one chance in this life to be happy . . . You better not waste yours.”

  “But . . .”

  “No buts. I’m not saying it will be easy. You probably already have some challenges. Shoot, we still don’t live in a world where a black woman can marry a white man without people giving us the side eye. That’s one hurdle you’ll have to handle already. That he’s a public figure . . . that makes another one. But if you care for him, and he cares for you, those are just details.”

  Just details.

  “You make it sound so simple,” she said, her heart twisting.

  “What else is it?” Angeline shrugged and snapped the top on. “You think it was easy for me? A black woman, struggling to finish school, working two jobs, dealing with her daughter, trying to handle her no-good brother and take care of you, when he’d let me. Bruce took all of that on. Yes, we had people look at us—he was this rich, powerful white man and he fell in love with me, a broke, single black woman who was raising a couple of girls on her own. Yes, it happened the entire time we were married. Yes, it pissed me off. And yes . . .” She slid Ressa a slow smile. “It was worth it. Every damn night, when I came home to him, when we lay in bed together. It was all worth it, even when I had to bury him far too soon. Love is always worth it, baby. Love is what matters . . . the rest is just details. Some are bigger, and suck more than the others. But you have to ask yourself . . . do you love him?”

  She paused long enough to kiss Ressa on the cheek and Ressa obediently dipped her head. “Thanks, Mama Ang.”

  “Think about it, baby.” Angeline moved to the door. There, she paused. “I need my caffeine fix so I’m making coffee. You need to get dressed and see if whoever you had in mind can watch Neeci.” She paused before she left. “And Ressa, baby?”

  “Yes?”

  Angeline lifted a brow. “You’re too smart to do something like this . . . so sometime soon I expect to meet this man.”

  With a wince, Ressa said, “Well, that’s going to be really soon. I plan on calling to see if he can help with Neeci.”

  “Ohhh?” Angeline drew out the word, her eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Yeah.” Licking her lips, she decided to get it over with. Mama Ang gobbled up his books like they were candy. And she was one of the people who followed that Trey sightings board on Pinterest. She’d recognize him in a heartbeat. “It’s . . . um. It’s Trey Barnes.”

  “Trey . . .” Her aunt’s brows arched and her mouth fell open. She pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh . . . as in Trey Barnes—the Trey Barnes?”

  Ressa winced at the look that flashed across Angeline’s face, the way she fanned a hand in front of herself. “Hoo. It’s a good thing you told me that last or I just might have been too busy stumbling around in shock to give you that little heart to heart.”

  Ressa found herself grinning as Mama Ang fumbled for the doorknob, still muttering under her breath as she closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  “You didn’t have to fly out here because of thi
s,” Trey said, swinging between irritation toward his twin and his little brother, exhaustion, amusement, and about five hundred other emotions.

  One of those emotions was longing.

  It had been a week since he’d seen her, and it was killing him.

  Just like that, she’d gone and made herself matter that much.

  He wasn’t sure if he appreciated it, especially since it seemed pretty clear she’d never really planned on letting anything serious happen between them.

  Okay, true enough, they had gone from a few hot, naked sessions of twisting up the sheets to feeling like they weren’t whole without the other, and it had happened fast, but she’d felt it coming on, just the same as he had.

  It had also been a week since Sebastian had planted his lazy ass in Trey’s house and baby brother was just now telling Trey why he’d come.

  “Now how was I supposed to ignore that, man? I couldn’t, and you know it.”

  Trey read through the texts—texts that clearly Clay had sent because more than a few words were either misspelled or autocorrect had been having fun—and they’d all come from Travis’s phone, the night of Trey’s first date with Ressa. It had taken a couple of weeks, but Sebastian had done exactly what Trey suspected he’d do.

  He’d shown up on his nephew’s door.

  Kids at scool dont beehive your my uncle.

  Beehive? Trey smiled a little even as he mentally translated the autocorrect. Believe.

  Sebastian’s response was simple.

  Dude, I don’t believe you’re my nephew—you’re too awesome for me or Trey.

  Damn the idiot. He couldn’t even be mad at him now.

  Your funny. But they laughed at me.

  The rest of the conversation went on that way and he shoved the phone back to Sebastian with a sigh. “I expect you feel about the same way I do, knowing kids are teasing him. But he also has to learn that he does have to . . .” He stopped, shaking his head.

  “What?” Travis asked. “He’s in kindergarten. He’s got two famous uncles—and hell, his dad is an author. He’s proud of you. He wants people to know. It’s not like he’s bragging. He was just telling the truth and kids were mean.”