Collide

by Juliana Stone

  “Are you kidding me? Can you please put some clothes on? Gerald will be here any minute and he certainly doesn’t need to see those things.”

  Betty tossed her head, her long hair sliding over her shoulder and grinned. Slowly…carefully, she tugged the ends over her exposed nipples and then tightened the belt.

  “Damn, I supposed I could get dressed. It is two in the afternoon after all and lord knows Gerry doesn’t need the added excitement of seeing something that he only fantasized about on his uh, honeymoon.”

  Something began to pulse back in the recesses of Bobbi’s brain. A sharp, something, that drew Bobbi’s frown deeper across her forehead.

  There was a time, years ago, when Betty and Bobbi had been close. Really close. The other triplet, Billie was the one who never really fit in. She’d always been the third wheel. The athletic tomboy who didn’t give two shits about clothes or makeup or having a good time. But Betty? She was always down for whatever kind of trouble Bobbi was willing to get into, and damn, but they’d seen their share of trouble.

  Yet, something had hardened inside her sister. Something twisted and mean. And though Bobbi would like to think it was because of the crazy life she’d fallen into—modeling and acting—she wasn’t so sure anymore. Something was broken inside Betty and the scary thing was, that sometimes, that blank, sad, look she saw in her sister’s eyes, stared back at herself when Bobbi looked in the mirror.

  Bobbi sighed and glanced away. With all the problems facing her at the moment she didn’t have the time, or the inclination, to find out what it was or to try and fix it. Besides, her sister Betty had to want to be helped. Her addiction problems and crazy lifestyle had toned down a bit since she’d returned to New Waterford in the fall, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trouble.

  She was plenty enough trouble. Hell, the girl had left Bobbi’s wedding-that-never-happened-reception, with Matt Hawkins. Matt freaking Hawkins. He was one of the biggest horn-dogs around—at the age of thirty five he had children with three different women—and yet, Betty had left with him and was gone for three days and three nights. She’d returned to the Barker residence, in a pair of men’s jeans and an old ratty sweatshirt, with her long hair a tangled mess and makeup that had run and smudged.

  She was either coming down from a high or still drunk, but there was no doubt that Betty had walked through the door looking like the worse walk of shame, ever—worse than Bobbi returning in her stained, wedding dress. And Bobbi was glad that neither Gramps, nor her father had been home to witness it.

  “Just please get dressed or go back up to your room and do whatever it is you do up there.”

  For a few moments the two girls stared at each other in silence, the only noise was the ticking of the ancient round clock above the fridge. They both jumped when the doorbell rang and Bobbi smoothed her pin straight hair as she tried to calm her nerves.

  She opened her mouth once more in a bid to implore her sister to leave, but Betty saved her the trouble. She grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the cupboard, saluted Bobbi, and disappeared up the back stairs.

  Bobbi exhaled and headed for the foyer, taking a moment to glance at herself in the large hall mirror. She’d deliberately chosen something sedate and classy. A simple deep blue cashmere turtleneck with three-quarter length sleeves, coupled with simple black dress pants and plain black heels. A long gold chain hung from her neck and small gold studs were at her ears.

  Her makeup was again, simple, with a dusting of shadow and mascara, and clear gloss on her lips. She looked put together and calm which was exactly how she wanted to look. Mostly because it was the polar opposite of how she felt inside.

  Could she fix this? Would Gerald listen to her? She thought of her future. The one she’d planned so meticulously—the one she wanted in spite of what she’d done—and tried not to let the underlying panic bleed through.

  The fact that he was coming to see her on his first day back was a great sign, and she needed to focus on the positive. She would fix this. She had too.

  She paused at the door, her hand on the knob, her heart beating just a tad too fast, and though she would have loved a few more minutes to mentally prepare herself there was no way around it. She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and rested her eyes on the man she should be married to.

  The man she wanted to marry. Everything else was a mistake.

  Bobbi cleared her throat and as she stared at her fiancé in silence, she noticed a few things that were maybe, a tad alarming. First off, his hair was a mess. Not a windblown kind of thing either, but more like a controlled mess. From what Bobbi could see, Gerald had more product in his hair that any woman had a right to. It was sticking up in long spikes that would have looked good on a teenager but on a man of thirty-five?

  Not so much.

  “Bobbi,” he said stonily.

  Okay, his mood didn’t look promising and his tone of voice left a lot to be desired but…

  Wait. Was that an earring?

  Bobbi’s fisted hand flew to her chest and she hoped the weird noise she heard hadn’t actually come from her mouth. She tried her best to keep the smile she had pasted to her face when she’d opened the door. And it was a chore. She wanted to frown in horror as her eyes crept back to—good god, there wasn’t just one earring—there were two. And they weren’t studs. They were hoops.

  Gerald—the man who thought wearing jeans to work on Fridays was slumming it—had hoops in his ears. Gold hoops and not the delicate sort either. Ugh. They didn’t belong on any man in his thirties, unless his name started with Jon and ended with Jovi.

  “Come in,” she managed to say and stepped aside to give him room.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Oh,” Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Gerald never used slang. Ever.

  Her eyes moved over his tall form.

  And he certainly never wore jeans that had holes in the knees.

  Her eyes moved higher.

  Or a leather jacket that looked more suited to a motorcycle than winter in New Waterford.

  Alarm bells rang in her head and she tried desperately to swallow the huge lump in her throat.

  And he certainly didn’t run around with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Definitely not without an undershirt.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to…”

  But he was already shaking his head. “No. I just came to get my ring.”

  “Your ring,” Bobbi repeated. Okay, this wasn’t going the way she had envisioned at all. “Gerald, honey, don’t you think we should talk about,” she swallowed nervously, “About what happened?”

  His eyes hardened as he stared down at her in silence. Gerald was kind and gentle and kind and…

  His glare deepened and so did her discomfort. Christ, the man’s favorite movie was March of the freaking Penguins. What had she done to him?

  “Please, Gerald. You have to let me explain. Let me apologize.” She knew she sounded desperate but suddenly she didn’t care. Gerald was part of her life plan and she couldn’t let him slip away.

  She had made a mistake dammit, and she was willing to do whatever it took to make amends. She had to make him see that.

  “Please, Gerald.” She reached for him but he moved back, his lips screwed up in distaste.

  “What’s there to talk about? You didn’t show up for our wedding. There is nothing else to say.”

  Bobbi’s stomach twisted painfully and for a moment she was lightheaded. She blew out a long breath as she stared at the man she’d expected to, well, she hadn’t expected him to welcome her back with open arms, but certainly she’d envisioned a calm conversation ending with Gerald accepting her heartfelt apology for what she’d put him through and for the two of them to move on.

  Her life—the perfect, serene life—the one with the white picket fence, two golden retrievers, maybe a cat, and definitely no worries, was crumbling in front of her and the panic mice were starti
ng to nibble at her feet. “Gerald, I’m so sorry for what I put you through. You have to believe me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “But you did,” he said roughly. He ran his hands through the thick mess of hair on his head, though Bobbi looked away when he got his fingers caught in the gelled waves and he had to work to extract them.

  “I made a mistake. I want to work through this Gerald,” she tried again softly, hoping the underlying panic she felt wasn’t seeping through.

  “Last week I wanted to hear that. When I was standing at the front of St. Paul’s fucking church—”

  Bobbi winced. She couldn’t recall ever hearing Gerald swear.

  “And I knew you weren’t going to show, I wanted to hear that.” Gerald’s face was a shade past plain old pissed off. “In the hours afterward, between the twenty-five or thirty phone calls I made to your cell? I damn well wanted to hear that. Even when my mother convinced me it would be best to go away without you…even then, I still needed to hear you say that, but now it means nothing.”

  “Gerald,” she whispered. “It means everything.”

  “Really,” he said sarcastically.

  Bobbi took a few moments to try and gather her thoughts but it was hard. Her stomach was a mess of knots and she was suddenly flush and not feeling so great. Everything was slipping away from her and she had no clue how to fix any of it.

  Why hadn’t the old Gerald showed up? The one who would listen patiently and look at the argument from every side and angle. The man who would think things over in a calm, logical way and realize that sure, she’d screwed up—big time—but she deserved a second chance. After all, they loved each other.

  Right?

  “Gerald, I can explain. You have to let me explain.” She moved forward again and placed her hand on his forearm.

  Gerald shoved his now product coated fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and scowled. He actually scowled at her.

  “This is what I know to be the true facts of that night, Bobbi. While I stood at the front of the church, waiting in front of our friends and family,” he leaned closer. “In front of your father and your sisters including the crazy one, who, I would like to add was higher than a kite.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Both Gerald and Bobbi glanced toward the stairs. Betty stepped off the last one and—thank god—was respectfully covered up in a pair of sweat pants and a tank top.

  “I wasn’t flying until much later,” Betty continued with a wink before disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Gerald cleared his throat and nailed Bobbi with a dark look. “The point is I was there. Waiting for you because I wanted to marry you and where were you?”

  His voice rose and Bobbi winced.

  “You were in a bar three counties over with Shane fucking Gallagher.” He stepped inside the house and she moved back. “You spent the night,” he ground out, “Our wedding night with that loser.”

  His profanity bothered her and yet the thing that twisted inside her was more to do with his attitude toward Shane.

  “Shane isn’t a loser,” she blurted out.

  Gerald looked like he was going to blow his top and wisely, Bobbi realized now was not the time to defend her ex-boyfriend.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered instead. There was no use denying anything. The entire town knew what had happened that night. Hell, Mrs. Beals, Shane’s neighbor, had watched her leave his home clad in only a T-Shirt, clutching her ruined wedding dress to her chest. That alone was as good as taking out an ad in the freaking newspaper.

  “I didn’t sleep with him, Gerald.”

  “Not that I believe you, but even if I did it doesn’t matter because I don’t care. You could have spent the entire night engaging in all sorts of devious activities with that…that criminal, but I don’t care. Not anymore.”

  His words were like stones. They fell fast and hard and Bobbi stood before him, smoothing invisible wrinkles in her dress pants over her hips as her mind turned in circles, looking for a way to salvage things.

  “I’d like my ring back,” he said with his hand held out. “It belongs in my family.”

  “Oh,” Bobbi managed as she pulled it off her finger. “Of course.”

  Gerald slipped the ring into his pocket and stepped outside. He paused for a moment, before leaving. “I’m sure you understand that I need to replace you at the firm. So don’t bother showing up for work tomorrow.”

  And then he was gone.

  Bobbi wasn’t sure how long she stared at the closed door but it was long enough for Betty to fix herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Her sister ate it a few inches away and when Bobbi glanced at her, for a moment she thought she saw something other than the snotty, I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anything look in her eyes.

  If it was there, it was gone just as fast. Betty stuffed the last bit of bread into her mouth and spoke, barely managing to get the words out.

  “Wow, dumped and fired in one shot. Bet you didn’t see that one coming.”

  Chapter Eight

  By Friday, panic set in.

  It was a full-on, paralyzing kind of panic. The kind that held you frozen in place. The kind that kept you in the shadows and made you forget things. Important things. Like eating. Or sleeping. Or bathing.

  She’d been fired. She’d been dumped. She had nothing. She was twenty-five years old and her life was shit.

  Bobbi shuddered as she drew a green and black plaid blanket up over her hips and stared out the window into the early evening gloom. She was in the family room and a fire burned in the stone hearth, but she just couldn’t get warm. It was just past five and Gramps was in the kitchen. He’d whipped up a large pot of chili and though she was sure the aroma was mouth-watering, it did nothing for Bobbi.

  She was too depressed to eat. To down and out to even think about taking one spoonful of Gramps delicious chili. She listened to Betty giggle at something Gramps said and then she heard her father’s answering laugh.

  For one brief, bittersweet moment, she felt light. Her father’s days were good this past week. Funny, her life was down in the toilet and yet, he had rallied. His mind was good, his eyes bright, and his appetite had returned.

  She just wished she could enjoy it.

  A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes and watched—with disinterest—twin beams of light cut through the thickening gloom outside. A black truck pulled up behind Bobbi’s own modest car and the doors flew open. Logan Forest and her sister Billie, stood together for a moment, their bodies touching in the way that lovers did, hands caressing a cheek, bones melting into flesh.

  Her sister rose onto her tip toes and sank her fingers into Logan’s hair. They kissed a long, lingering kiss and his hands fell to Billie’s butt. He pulled her into him as the two of them took their time to taste each other.

  When Logan slowly let her sister slide down--when he broke their kiss and claimed her hand inside his—something twisted inside Billie. The emptiness of her bubble was no more.

  She was filled with something fierce and hot and painful.

  She bit her lip so hard that she drew blood and when Billie and Logan entered the house, she turned away from the foyer. She had seen enough. She didn’t need to see anymore.

  “Hey.”

  Shit. Guess Billie wasn’t on the same page.

  Bobbi turned, pasted a surprised look on her face and attempted a lame smile.

  “Hey yourself. What are you guys doing here? Did you come for Gramps chili?”

  Billie nodded. “Sure did. We’ve got a game at eight and I just got off the ice with a bunch of girls, so we came for carbs and then we’re heading back to the twin pads.”

  Bobbi stared at her sister and hoped like hell the jealous ball of pain inside her didn’t show.

  Billie Jo had returned home from Europe the previous fall, her career playing professional hockey over much too soon. She’d been labeled injury prone and her last concussi
on had pretty much signed her walking papers. For a woman who had represented her country in two Olympic games and then played in the men’s league in Sweden, it was a tough blow.

  And yet, she’d bounced back. She had returned home, conquered the local men’s hockey league and managed to find love. Currently working her ass off running her very own hockey training school, Billie Jo Barker had moved from displaced sports hero, to up and coming business woman of the year.

  Bobbi loved her.

  And she hated her too.

  “Why don’t you come and watch?” Billie asked quietly.

  Bobbi glanced at Logan Forest, suddenly aware of just how awful she looked. She pulled her blanket a little higher and murmured. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

  “Some fresh air might do you good, Bobbi,” Logan offered. “It’s not good to stay cooped up inside, especially in the winter.”

  “I’m fine right here, thanks,” she said frostily. She didn’t care that Logan was Billie’s boyfriend. What gave him the right to come in here and offer advice?

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he said and kissed Billie on the cheek before disappearing down the hall.

  “Bobbi,” Billie said.

  “You better go,” she inserted. “Betty is in there and who knows what the hell she’s wearing or even if she’s dressed. She’ll be all over Logan and you know it.”

  “I know.” Billie smiled and shrugged. “But I also know that Logan only tolerates her because she’s my sister and because her need for attention is so pathetic it’s sad.”

  Bobbi shrugged. “She’s not as pathetic as I am these days.”

  “That’s true,” Billie said. “And she smells a hell of a lot better than you do.”

  Annoyed, Bobbi threw a pillow at her sister and they both watched it land on the floor next to the antique grandfather clock.

  “You can’t stay in here forever you know,” Billie said quietly. “You have to come out and play and you may as well get it over with. Come watch us play tonight. We’re heading to The Grill for beer and wings afterward. It’s not fancy but it will be better than sitting at home on a Friday night.”