True Blue (Blue Series Book 3)

by Jules Barnard

  Lewis moves away from the dangerous lingerie and sighs. “I know what I’m asking isn’t easy, Mira. Have you talked about your mom with your therapist?”

  “Of course.” I pull out jeans and a few tops and add them to the pile in the suitcase.

  “What does she say?”

  I avoid his gaze, hesitating.

  “Mira?”

  “Same stuff you do. That it’s not a healthy relationship. That even though my mom may not intentionally hurt me, her actions do, and I need to make decisions that are best for me.”

  “You should listen to your therapist.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re saying that because she echoes you.”

  “That’s not true. I want what’s best for you.”

  “I know you do. I’ll try. But I can’t just cut her out of my life.”

  “Maybe”—he stretches his neck again—“just work on distancing yourself. Your mom expects you to go to her, to do things for her. She asks too much.”

  He has no idea.

  ***

  Tyler

  Minutes after Mira runs out to Lewis’s Jeep, a knock sounds at the door. I climb halfway up the loft ladder and grab my T-shirt from the floor, pulling it over my head before jerking the sticky front door open.

  A woman with graying black hair and tanned, wrinkled skin stands on the other side. Despite the prematurely aged look, the woman might have been attractive at one point. Bright eyes, high, full cheekbones.

  I’m not surprised. It’s Mira’s mom, after all—the person I saw inside the cabin last night.

  The woman’s gaze darts past me into the cabin. “Mira stayin’ here?” Her voice is slightly hoarse, a bit slurred.

  Nice manners.

  “Sorry, who are you?”

  I know who she is, but I want her on the defensive. With Mira’s tight-assed responses, I’m not opposed to maneuvering around her to figure out what’s going on. I’d bet my right nut this woman knows.

  The woman looks me up and down, as if I’m the one with unwashed clothes and sour breath. “I’m looking for my daughter. She living here? Girl never showed last night. Was supposed to bring me somethin’.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what she was supposed to bring you, and I’ll make sure she gets the message.”

  The woman’s eyes narrow. “Jus’ tell her I came by. And that I’m not happy.” She punctuates the last part with an angry glare and turns around.

  “Mira was attacked on her way to see you,” I say.

  The lady stops and looks over her shoulder.

  “Your daughter didn’t show up because she’d been beaten.”

  A flicker of something crosses her eyes. Or it could have been light shifting through the trees. “Who did it?”

  I shrug as if it’s no concern of mine, but I care. I’d feel bad for any girl who’d been hurt like that. Nothing to do with Mira.

  “Yeah, well, she should have come when I asked her to. If she hadn’t been running late, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

  My jaw tightens. Her mom makes it sound like Mira deserved the beating. It pisses me off that this woman acts like she doesn’t give a shit about her daughter.

  “I said she was hurt. Badly.”

  The woman squirms and looks away. “Well, she’s alive, ain’t she?”

  I shake my head. Fucking unbelievable. “Whatever, lady. I’ll tell her you came by.”

  I go to shut the door, but Mira’s mom moves quickly, considering her disheveled look, and shoves her scuffed white sneaker against the jamb, holding it open. “Tell Mira not to wait too long.”

  I study her face. “How’d you know where to find her?”

  Her eyes dart away. “I waited near that Lewis fellow’s place and followed him.”

  And she didn’t see Mira leave here with him?

  It would depend how far back Mira’s mom trailed Lewis. Mira left pretty quickly…to get away from me. Maybe Mira’s mom only saw Lewis’s truck pull away from Cali’s cabin and thought to check out the place? Cover all her bases. She’s dirty, likely drunk or high, but not stupid.

  “You should call Mira if you need her so urgently. I don’t know when she’s returning.”

  Or if she’s returning. Mira might decide to stay somewhere else, now that she knows we’ll be living together.

  “Can’t. Don’t have a phone.” The woman turns and walks down the drive toward a beat-up, mammoth sedan. “Jus’ tell her I came by. She’ll know what to do,” she says without looking back.

  If Mira hadn’t been on her way to see her mother, those men wouldn’t have cornered her alone. What does Mira’s mom need so desperately she’s willing to put her daughter in danger? And what kind of mother does that?

  Fuck. I knew this would happen. It’s why I can’t live with Mira. I don’t want to worry about what goes on in her life.

  But if I discover the truth and a solution to Mira’s problem, maybe I can put a stop to this mess. Mira will be safe and can move out, and life will be good.

  Well, not good, but my new normal.

  Chapter Ten

  Mira

  I drag my trashed suitcase on its single roller the last few feet to Cali’s closet, then peek out into the living room. Tyler doesn’t look up from his laptop at the dining table. I quietly close the door and press my forehead against the cool wood. I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time alone in this room, avoiding Tyler.

  I grabbed a few things from my place and I have my truck, but I don’t feel settled. Those men in the forest scared the shit out of me. I’m not sure where living with Tyler falls on the list, but it’s up there under undesirable situations. I’m safer with Tyler than by myself, but I don’t like it.

  I told Lewis I had a plan, but now that I’m sitting on the bed in Cali’s room, attempting to come up with said plan, my hands are shaking. I clasp them together, squeezing out the nervous energy, and grab my phone to search for jobs. The first one I apply for is the one I mentioned to Lewis. I fill out several more applications for positions that seem likely to pay more, assuming someone exaggerates my skill set for me to qualify.

  An hour passes and I decide to give myself a break from my self-imposed isolation. I filled out ten online applications with my iPhone (a pain in the ass without a computer), which is a solid start. Plus, I’m hungry.

  I open the bedroom door, expecting to see Tyler sitting at the dining table with his laptop, ignoring me.

  He’s not.

  He’s sitting on the couch, one arm across the back cushion, staring straight ahead. He doesn’t look at me, but I get the feeling he’s been waiting.

  This does not bode well. The best way for us to live together is to avoid each other.

  I stride past Tyler to fix myself a sandwich and then return to my isolation room when his words freeze me in place.

  “Your mom stopped by.”

  I sense Tyler’s hard gaze. When I look up, a smug look rests on his face. He shocked the shit out of me, and even I’m not that good an actress. How did my mom figure out where I’m living? She’s crafty when she wants something, and she hasn’t gotten her money, so…

  My thoughts must be transparent, because Tyler adds, “She followed Lewis, and came looking for you.”

  Wow. She’s tracking me now?

  “Did she say what she wanted?” I know. It’s the money—always money—but I want to see if Tyler knows.

  “She says you have something for her. She’s not happy you didn’t show up last night.” He spreads his feet in front of the couch and leans on his forearms, staring at me. “I told her what happened and why you didn’t show.”

  Great. I don’t like my mom knowing my business. It tends to make matters worse. “And?”

  “And nothing. She wants whatever it is you have for her. That’s all.” There’s a hint of concern in his eyes.

  I take a deep breath, shift uncomfortably. I know that look. Sympathy. Because I have a mom who doesn’t care like normal mo
ms do. I understand that the sentiment comes from the right place, but it always manages to make me feel worse. I don’t want pity, especially not from Tyler.

  “Anything else?” I reply coldly.

  “Yeah.” He stands and looks down at me, his pale eyes dark. “What the hell is going on?”

  I storm into the kitchen and fling open the refrigerator door, blindly grabbing bread, lunch meat, and any other items I can find for a sandwich I suddenly have no stomach for. Why does he have to be perceptive now?

  “Nothing’s going on. Just stay out of it, Tyler,” I say without looking at the man whose gaze is burning a hole in my back.

  “Bullshit. You’re lying.”

  I look over my shoulder. “You don’t know me.”

  “Wrong.” He leans forward. “I know you intimately, if you recall.”

  The air I gasp stings my lungs, which are overheated like the rest of me. How dare he bring that up?

  He shrugs. “Granted, there’s probably a long line of men you’ve been with.” I swallow, my throat tight, anger making my chest even warmer. “And unless you’ve hooked up with some of your friends too…Lewis, perhaps?” He raises an eyebrow, and I glare at him. “No? Interesting…Well, I guess that means I know you in ways they don’t.”

  What does this have to do with anything? And why is he being such an ass? This isn’t the Tyler I remember. He used to be sweet, gentle. Now, he’s hard edges and hot flames, anger radiating off him in waves.

  Tyler narrows his gaze and glances down my body in a way that’s meant to analyze, but instead it sends a shiver through me.

  I hate that he has this effect on me.

  “You look out of the corner of your eye instead of directly when you’re telling a lie.” He scans my face and his eyes stay fixed on my mouth. “And the centers of your cheeks blush when you’re agitated—or excited.”

  I’m on fire with fury, ignoring the flutter in my belly his words elicit. And how dare he pay attention to my bodily signals?

  “I do not blush when I’m excited.”

  He leans in farther, his strong fingertips bracing the counter across from me. “You do. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

  His words are a threat and a temptation.

  This conversation is going in the wrong direction. I’ve got to get the upper hand. At the very least, a grip on the way he makes me feel. What is it my therapist always says? No one can make me feel anything. I’m in control of my emotions.

  Tyler watches, listens in a way no one ever has. I used to love that about him, but now I see the downside to it. I don’t want him butting around in my thoughts and emotions. Damn him for trying to get into my head.

  “Leave me alone, Tyler.” I turn and reach for the bag of bread.

  “No.” It’s not the volume of his voice, but the tone that has me turning back. “We can’t live together, which means you need to tell me the truth if we’re getting you safely out of here.”

  I cross my arms. No way am I telling him jack shit.

  He glances away and sighs. “I’ll keep it to myself, if that’s what you want. But you need to be honest with me. It’s the only way. Like it or not, we’re in this together until you move out.”

  ***

  Tyler

  My words suggest I only care about getting Mira out of Cali’s place, but it’s more than that. Mira was my first—first crush, the first girl I had sex with—and for some reason, she means more. I need to know she’s going to be okay.

  On the surface, I see Mira’s rough side like everyone else, but I’ll always wonder about the softer part of her she doesn’t show anyone. The playful, sweet girl I once saw lurking beneath the surface.

  So yes, I want her out, but I also want to help her. I’d swear she’s not telling the truth, and if I can get her to trust me, even a little, maybe I can get us out of this fucked-up situation.

  She rubs her arms. Her shoulders hunch forward slightly, an atypical response from the girl who holds her head high, no matter the situation. It’s as though the weight of the world has fractured her resolve.

  Mira walks past me into the living room. For a moment, I think she’s going to keep walking and shut me out. But she doesn’t. She stops in front of the couch and sits in the center.

  I walk over and take the recliner across from her, waiting for what’s to come, because with the way she’s holding herself tight, her arms tucked close to her sides, I sense her vulnerability. I have a knack for pissing Mira off. If I want the truth, I had better keep my mouth shut.

  She doesn’t speak for a long moment. She turns to the side and stares out the window, the saddest look I’ve ever seen pulling down her pretty features. That look hits me square in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. I want to protect her, destroy whatever has given her this look of utter defeat.

  I figured she was lying about something. I believed she’d gotten herself into deep shit, but what is this really about? Mira doesn’t cower or back down easily. Whatever’s got her worried is big time.

  She raises her eyes and singes me with a glare, which takes me aback for a second. It’s the kind of look I’m used to from her, but she just did a one-eighty on me. I’m all ready to protect and maim for her, and she’s looking at me like she wishes I were dead.

  Is there any wonder she twists me in knots?

  “What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room, Tyler. Ever. This is a secret between the two of us. No one can know.”

  “Been there, done that.” Kind of rude, but true. No one knows we slept together. Well, except for the high-school kids who must have seen Mira leave the bedroom with bedhead.

  The centers of her cheeks turn pink, and my heart stirs to life.

  Still works. Still awesome. I love that I can draw a blush from her. There are some perks to living with Mira after all.

  “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Too late.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Do you agree, or not?”

  “I won’t tell anyone. Now spill it.”

  She sits forward and tucks a leg under her, her breasts bouncing with the motion. That one movement tosses my brains to the wind.

  Focus, man. I reluctantly drag my gaze to her face.

  “You know how close Lewis and I are?” I nod, and she glances away, biting the inside of her cheek. “He doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you. When I say no one can know—I mean no one.”

  That gets my attention. Lewis and Mira are tight—were tight. I’m not sure what they are anymore. I thought I knew what they were in high school, but that seems all wrong, since she said she never slept with any of her friends. Which was a surprise. I could have sworn Mira and Lewis were a couple in high school. But then, I didn’t actually believe that rumor until Holly suggested it. I wish I had known there was nothing going on between them. I was so angry after…If I’d known the truth, we might have parted as friends.

  She focuses intently on me. “I don’t owe money for gambling.”

  This is the most information I’ve gotten out of her. “But you do owe money?”

  She nods. “Lewis has been telling me to stay away from my mom for years. If he knew, he’d freak out.”

  “You’ve been giving your mom money?” Her jaw drops, and I shrug. “She wanted whatever you had pretty badly. Money’s a big motivator.”

  “I helped her pay off some bad people. She told me they’d kill her if she didn’t give them the money within a week. I believed her. The dregs she hangs out with are scary as shit, and she seemed desperate.” Her gaze wanders nervously.

  “What else?”

  “It didn’t end there. She asked for more.” Mira shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t know how my mom pays her bills. She never works. I kept giving her money, but I started coming up short each month. One month I couldn’t pay my rent. I borrowed from a place in town. I paid the money back with my next paycheck.”

  She glances down and tucks a loose strand of hair that escaped her ponyta
il behind her ear. “I told my mom I couldn’t help her anymore after that.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for what’s to come, because my gut tells me this gets worse.

  Mira looks straight at me, her expression unguarded, despite the steel she tries to exude. “I didn’t hear from her for two months. After a few weeks I started to worry. I searched for her and when I found her…She had a broken arm, a black eye…She wouldn’t talk to me. She blamed me for what had happened.”

  Mira plays with the frayed edge of her jean shorts, her next breath shaky. “I didn’t know if it was my fault or not for not giving her the money, but I couldn’t stand to see her hurt. I told her that if she needed cash, I had some saved, which I didn’t.” She looks up as if to convince me. “I had a job and no one depending on me. I thought I could handle it, but I got more behind. Eventually, I asked my mom to get help. She’s had a cocaine problem on and off. I figured that’s where the money was going. I gave her pamphlets for places that provide support, but she wouldn’t take them. She wouldn’t seek help. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “A cocaine problem on and off,” I say, disbelieving this shit.

  Mira’s mother—the drug addict—uses Mira, and Mira is desperate for her mother’s love. Of course Mira feels she can’t say no.

  I shift my jaw, attempt to tamp down my anger in reaction to this girl’s struggles. I pull at the collar of my shirt and sit back, staring at the wall. I want to rail on her mom’s ass for using her daughter. Instead, I say, “Lewis told me you’re seeing a shrink.”

  Her eyes grow dark. “I’m not crazy, Tyler.”

  “I didn’t say you’re crazy.” And she isn’t. Mira just has too much on her shoulders. Addicts are heavy burdens. My mom worked in the casinos for decades. I’ve seen her lose friends to drug and alcohol addictions. She put the fear of God into me and Cali, warning us not to get mixed up in that shit.