by Meghan March
I squeeze her tighter, and everything about having her in my arms feels so fucking right. “It’s going to be okay. This isn’t your fault.”
She lifts her blue eyes to mine, and the sight of tears flooding them guts me. “It doesn’t matter where I go. I ruin everything.”
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I cup her cheek like I used to. “You ruined me, and I don’t even fucking care.” I lower my mouth to hers as a tear tips over her lid.
When our lips meet, it’s like being thrown back ten years into the past. Like there’s never been a single moment in time that she hasn’t been mine. My need for her is still as strong as ever. She’ll never be out of my blood.
Whitney shoves at my chest and tears out of my arms. “Don’t. I can’t.”
She runs for the parking lot, and I remember that my mother is awaiting paramedics.
I’m a shitty son.
Regardless of what happens to my mother, as I watch Whitney run from me again, I vow it’ll be the last time.
This isn’t over.
24
Whitney
The past
I refused to see Lincoln again, and I barely went out in public anymore. Whenever I did, people stared. Mrs. Riscoff must not have been thinking about the repercussions of cursing my name to anyone who would listen while they loaded her on a stretcher, because now the whole town knew that Lincoln and I had been caught together.
No one would talk about it in front of him, I was sure. They were probably too afraid of what he would do. But no one feared my reaction.
I walked into Freedom Bean to get Aunt Jackie a latte, at her request, even though I begged not to go, and saw my cousin Karma with a group of girls.
At least she’s family, so I don’t have to worry about her talking shit.
Or so I thought until I put in the order and waited near the other end of the barista station and overheard laughter. I glanced over my shoulder and they all looked away.
“Why would he touch her? He could have anyone. I know she’s your cousin, but . . . really?”
Karma met my gaze, not even trying to be sly. “Probably because he knew she’d put out. Like mother, like daughter.”
My mouth dropped open as her betrayal flayed me in half. What? Like mother, like daughter?
I’d been hiding away, avoiding everyone—including my parents—but apparently there was something going on that no one had told me.
I didn’t want to do this here, but Karma had given me no choice.
With crossed arms, I stalked over to the table and confronted her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
One of her friends, Jolene, smirked. “You haven’t heard? Your mom got caught sneaking out of the Wham Bam Motel last night.”
The Wham Bam Motel was what everyone called the Wild Basin Motel on the edge of town.
I tried to school my reactions as Jolene kept talking, but I could feel the heat of embarrassment burning my chest and cheeks.
“Everyone knows . . . well, except who she was with. Definitely not your dad. Doesn’t he work third shift right now?”
Any oxygen I could have breathed in got sucked out of the room, and I choked. “What?”
Karma crossed her arms to match my posture. “I figured your mom would’ve told you. But then, it sounds like there’s a lot your mom isn’t telling you these days. Like who she’s having a fling with.”
I fought to draw in a breath. “You’re full of shit, Karma. And spreading rumors about your own family? That’s low.”
“They aren’t rumors if they’re true,” Jolene said with a smirk. “Like you and Lincoln. So, how was he? Because I think I’d like to take him for a spin.”
Lincoln had been calling me at least five times every day, but I hadn’t answered. I’d given his mother a freaking heart attack. I was pretty sure that was as over as we could get.
“He has better taste than you.”
All the girls burst out laughing, including my traitor cousin. “Like you?”
I was reduced to feeling an inch tall, but I kept my shoulders back and stood straight. “Give it a try. See how he reacts to skank.” My gaze flicked to Karma. “You’re a bitch.”
“Better a bitch than a whore,” she shot back, and my stomach turned.
“Latte for Jackie,” the barista called.
“You better run on back to my mom now,” Karma said.
I spun around on my sneaker, retrieved the latte, and got the hell out of the coffee shop.
Next up, get the hell out of this town.
25
Lincoln
Present day
Sitting in the emergency room of the Riscoff Memorial Hospital with my mother is the last place I should be thinking about Whitney, but I can’t help it.
Fuck. What a mess.
We’re waiting on tests to come back, but I can’t lie and say I think this episode is legitimate. My mother’s conveniently timed heart events are growing to legendary status. The last episode happened right after Commodore turned The Gables over to McKinley. Before that, it was when I mentioned the idea of marrying Monica.
Now she has one when she sees Whitney Gable, and we end up in the emergency room?
Suspicious? Absolutely.
“I guess you should’ve gotten rid of her as soon as she stepped foot in town.” Harrison’s comment is a poorly aimed swipe.
“This is her home too.”
“We own this town. There’s nothing here that the Gables can claim.”
“Shut up, Harrison,” McKinley chimes in. “This is about Mother, and no one else. Pretend you care.”
“I’m her favorite. Of course I care.”
He’s right. If it were up to our mother, Harrison would inherit everything. McKinley and I don’t cater to her like he does.
Dr. Green, our family’s doctor for the last two decades, enters the waiting area, and we all stand.
“Is she going to be okay?” my sister asks.
“Was it a heart attack?” That question comes from Harrison.
“She’s going to be fine. It was a panic attack. Your mother has been under a lot of stress lately, and it’s taking a toll on her.”
“So, what can we do to help her, Doc?” Harrison glances pointedly at me.
“Try to avoid introducing additional stressors into her life. She needs some peace and quiet. She’s been through a lot over the years.”
I scoffed. “She doesn’t work. Hasn’t worked a day in her life. She has staff at her beck and call to do literally every single thing she could possibly need. How stressful can her life really be?” I may sound heartless, but I’m done with my mother using her health to try to manipulate every situation.
Dr. Green’s gaze rests on me. “I think you’re well aware of what triggered her panic attack, Mr. Riscoff.”
My jaw clenches, and I want to demand a second opinion. My mother obviously has Green wrapped around her finger. He’ll tell us whatever she wants him to.
“Can we see her now?” McKinley asks.
“Yes. And she’ll be able to leave shortly. I might suggest having her spend some time out of town. Maybe she could go on a trip and relax?”
“Good luck with that,” Harrison says with a cough. “She hates traveling this time of year.”
“I suggest you try convincing her then. I’ll plan to visit her tomorrow at home to see how she’s doing and reassess.”
“Thank you, Dr. Green. Will you take me back to her?” McKinley asks before she follows Dr. Green out of the private waiting area.
Harrison turns to me. “If you’re trying to kill her, you’re doing a hell of a job.”
“Fuck off.” I stand and turn for the door.
“If she finds out that someone is trying to exhume Dad’s body for a paternity suit, that’ll really put her over the edge.”
I stop short on the threshold. “How did you find out about that?”
Harrison smirks. “I know everything. Now . . . it’ll be interesting to see
if you find out what it’s like to not have a claim to everything you think you deserve, big brother.”
26
Whitney
I don’t know where to go. I don’t want to bring the destruction that comes with me back to Aunt Jackie’s yet.
Jesus, what if Mrs. Riscoff dies? Aunt Jackie will lose her job for sure.
Not that a job is life and death, but if Jackie were to get fired from The Gables, she’d probably have to move. Like she told me before, the Riscoffs own nearly everything and control the majority of the jobs in this town.
I never should have come home.
And why did I let him kiss me?
The last thing I need in my life is to complicate it by adding Lincoln Riscoff to the fray. I’ve only been home for a couple of days, and everything is already falling apart.
I don’t want to go through this again. The whispers. People talking about me wherever I go. I left Gable to make it stop, and that’s the same reason I escaped LA.
It doesn’t matter where I go—I’m cursed.
I point the car in the only direction that feels like a viable option. There’s only one person I know who would probably hand me an award if Sylvia Riscoff were to die just from seeing me.
My great-uncle Magnus.
* * *
His cabin is more of a shack precariously held up on the side of the gorge that leads down to the river. I have no idea how he’s able to maneuver the rickety stairs that wind to the water since he doesn’t have a fancy hydraulic chair on a rail like the house next door, but the fishing pole on the platform below tells me he’s been out there recently.
I knock on the cracked wooden door and am met with the sound of a cocking shotgun.
“Who is it?”
Magnus always was a crotchety old man, and that hasn’t changed.
“It’s Whitney. Your grand-niece.”
After a few thumps, he pulls open the door. “I know who the hell you are. ’Bout damn time you came around to show some respect to your elders.”
“I think I might’ve killed Sylvia Riscoff.”
His rheumy blue eyes widen. “’Bout damn time someone did that too.” He jerks his bald head toward the inside of the house. “Come on in. I’ve got some moonshine that’ll go nice with this story.”
I step inside the cabin and pick my way across the uneven boards. For a man older than dirt, he moves with more pep in his step than I would have expected. In fact, he seems just as nimble as he was ten years ago.
He snags a mason jar off the counter and walks out the slider onto the deck. “Hear your daughter-in-law almost kicked it today, Commodore!”
Good Lord. Commodore Riscoff lives next door?
I don’t know when that happened, but that’s the worst thing I could imagine for these two. Commodore still lived at the Riscoff estate when I left Gable, but neither he nor Magnus ever miss a chance to rile the other and keep the feud alive.
Like that lit rag Magnus shoved in the gas tank of Commodore’s fancy Mercedes right before I left town. The car blew up just like in the movies, according to everyone who saw it. Of course, though, no one actually saw Magnus do it, or at least no one would admit it. Regardless, there was no doubt in my mind that it was my great-uncle.
“The fuck you say, Gable?”
I step out onto the deck behind Magnus against my better judgment and immediately fear for my life. The railings are barely attached, and there’s nothing else to keep me from tumbling into the rushing water of the river below.
Making sure I’m directly in the middle, I turn to the left. A white-haired old man in a fancy-looking chair sits on a much grander deck holding a shotgun pointed in my direction.
“Oh my God.” I duck behind Magnus, and he waves an arm.
“Don’t shoot my grand-niece. I’ll really kill you for that.”
I peek over Magnus’s shoulder, and Commodore lowers his gun to his lap.
“You finally kill Sylvia, girl?”
I shake my head and realize his eyesight probably isn’t good enough to see me.
“They took her to the hospital. Chest pains. I don’t know what happened.”
The old man’s chest shakes with booming laughter. “It’s always chest pains. Mark my words, she’ll die of spite when she’s older than me.”
I don’t know exactly how old Commodore Riscoff is, but I think it’s a few years north of Magnus’s advanced age.
“Guess I better call for an update.” He pierces me with a stare, and I realize I might be wrong about his eyesight. “Stay away from my grandson. You hear me? He’s gonna give the family an heir, and there ain’t gonna be a drop of Gable blood running through that boy’s veins.”
As Magnus hollers out a few choice slurs, Commodore wheels himself inside, a dog trotting beside him.
I turn to go back in, but Magnus takes a seat on the deck. “Make sure you don’t say anything you don’t want that old fucker to hear. He’s like a hawk even now.”
“Shouldn’t we go inside then?”
Magnus shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t know how many years I got left, but I’m going to spend as much time outside as I can, enjoying this view.”
I glance at the pockmarks in the peeling paint of the siding. “Are those from buckshot?”
Magnus nods with what almost looks like a grin on his face. “We like to keep it interesting around here. Otherwise, we might get so bored there’s no reason to live.”
I scan him for injuries, noting a few spots scabbing over on his arms. “You don’t aim at each other . . . do you?”
With a shrug, he ignores my question. “Tell me about this new hullabaloo you caused.” He takes a swig of the moonshine and holds it out to me. “Because it seems to me that’s your specialty in life these days.”
I almost wave off the offer of the home brew, but it’s been a rough day. I clasp the glass jar in both hands and take the smallest swig.
I regret the decision immediately as my mouth catches fire and it spreads down my throat, all the way to my belly. “Jesus Christ.” I cough, and Magnus snatches the jar out of my hand before I spill any.
“Don’t tell me you went soft living in that city.”
I hack up a lung until the flames in my mouth finally settle down and I’m left with the flavor of gasoline. “How do you drink that?”
Magnus shrugs again and swills enough to knock me unconscious, and all he does is smack his lips at the end like it’s delicious. Maybe he really is crazy?
“We’re not talking about me, kid. I want the play-by-play. I assume you came here for a sympathetic ear, and I’m ready to hear every dirty detail.”
I bow my head and pinch the bridge of my nose between my left thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t even do anything. All I have to do is exist for her to have a heart attack.”
“Which seems more like a her problem than a you problem, to my senile brain.” Magnus takes another sip.
“It could be a Jackie problem if she gets fired because of it.”
Magnus’s shoulders rise and fall again, which has always been half of his communication. “Jackie will land on her feet. She’s smart. She’s a Gable.”
“In this town, that seems to be a liability now as much as it ever was.”
“Maybe to Sylvia Riscoff, but that old bat hates everyone and everything. Why do you care what she thinks of you, anyway? You gave her the biggest fuck-you of all time when you rejected her son in front of God and everyone. One of the most entertaining days of my life, I might add.”
Why do I care what Mrs. Riscoff thinks of me? Oh, that’s right, guilt.
“But—”
Magnus holds up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, but nothing that happened a decade ago was your fault. You weren’t involved in that mess, so why do you keep trying to take on the responsibility for it?”
The old man is full of questions I’m not ready to answer today.
“I don’t know.” I release a long breath. “I’ve been
holding on to it for so long, I don’t know how to let go.”
“No, you’ve been running so long, you don’t know how to stop. Maybe you oughta give that a try and see what it’s like to just be.”
As he takes another swig of moonshine, I wonder how much he’s already had today and whether I should be taking his advice. Then again, he’s probably immune to its effects by now.
I stare out over the gorge. God, I missed this view. But that doesn’t matter.
“Sylvia will never let me just be in Gable. She’ll run me out of town if it’s the last thing she does.”
Magnus glances over his shoulder at the house a hundred feet away. “Good thing Sylvia isn’t the one whose opinion matters in that family.”
“Like Commodore would ever take the side of a Gable. You two shoot at each other.”
“On the daily. Keeps us both on our toes. But he’s got a leash on Sylvia, or should I say a tight grip on the purse strings.”
I don’t quite take his point. “What are you suggesting I do exactly?”
“Put some steel in your spine, hold your ground, and don’t let Sylvia Riscoff decide your future.” He tilts his head to the right, his gaze sharp. “You never know what might happen.”
27
Lincoln
My brother’s words follow me out of the hospital as I watch my sister direct her driver to lift Mother into her SUV to take her home.
“It’ll be interesting to see if you find out what it’s like to not have a claim to everything you think you deserve, big brother.”
His words stay with me as I drive back to my office, and they’re still on my mind when my phone rings. Commodore.
“I find out from Magnus fucking Gable that Sylvia’s having another one of her episodes?”
“How did Magnus know?”
“How do you think? That black-haired Gable girl is in his shack right now, probably plotting how to bring about the downfall of the Riscoff clan by leading you around by the balls.”