Outbursts of temper were never something I chose to exhibit. Even in my lowest moments, I portrayed a composed resolve that I managed to practice to flawless execution. Perhaps it was because I was accustomed to seeing various forms of hysterics from my own sibling, or maybe simply because I knew what was expected. In either case, I was the steady one.
That trait came in handy in that moment, while I was inwardly seething but didn’t want to frighten my innocent little girl. Even though I remained composed on the outside, inside I was tossing furniture and vowing to kill the man. How could he ask to let him spend time with her when all he wanted to do was take her to the house of one of his random conquests? Most likely someone he met at the bar the weekend before, and Bailey simply got in the way.
“You slept in the bed with Cam?” I calmly attempted to clarify, my knuckles turning white where I clenched my fingers into fists.
“Uh-huh.” She bent her head to the ground, rolling herself into an awkward variation of a somersault. “I weared her clothes.”
My daughter slept with a bar fly wearing one of her slinky nightgowns.
“What did this Cam look like?” I asked, fighting the emotion in my voice.
“She pretty, like an angel. And she sing to me, but sad and cried. Jay hugged her and kissed her face.”
My mind mentally processed her story. Jake took my daughter to see his lover of the week. Broke up with her, and she cried. He likely took Bailey to soften the blow, but figured he might as well have one more night. Put my little beauty to bed…
So I didn’t feel guilty at all when I received the call that I got the job in Louisville. Bailey wouldn’t be able to see Jake anymore? Thank God, and good riddance. I didn’t say a word to him about Cam, the sleeping arrangements, Bailey’s tales… Instead, I pretended like nothing was wrong and simply told him we were moving to Kentucky. He didn’t argue, and didn’t beg me to let him see Bailey. I thought we were in the clear.
But life would have the last laugh on me, which is increasingly obvious as I gaze into my rearview mirror once again.
My mom loved reading us bedtime stories. I remembered that from an early age, and while I don’t recall specific instances before learning to read on my own, I know that they occurred. Sometimes when I read a book to Bailey I find that it’s vaguely familiar, like déjà vu. Other times a story will instantly trigger memories of something Heather said, usually betraying her smart mouth. Most of her comments were followed by a scowl or scolding from our mother, but those things rolled off Heather’s back without so much as a second glance.
I had one such reemergence of a memory just a couple weeks ago, as I was reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to Bailey. We were laughing together at the nonsense, while I made funny voices to try to coerce her into giggles. It suddenly hit me that my mother had read the exact same book to me, making funny voices, grinning at my own laughter. The story of Alice fascinated me—having a grand adventure simply by being curious and living in a dreamland fueled by imagination.
“I can picture you as Alice, sweetheart,” Mom said to me with a smile. “You have the calm demeanor to try to restore order to a nonsensical world.”
Heather’s coarse laugh sounded through her nose as she threw her seven-year-old head back. “She couldn’t be Alice. She’s the boring old sister trying to make everybody be boring.”
“I’m not boring,” I protested, hugging my fluffy white stuffed dog close to my chest.
“Yep.” She lowered herself to the floor, making a point of fanning her hair about her face as she spread her body out on the carpet. “You wouldn’t chase a rabbit down a hole. You wouldn’t even get up. You’d be afraid to break the dumb rules.”
“That’s not nice, Heather. Apologize to your sister.”
She let out an exaggerated sigh as she sat up, her annoyance clear in her glare as she tilted her head in my direction. “I’m sorry you’re boring, Alex.”
“My name’s not Alex,” I countered.
“Alex in Boringland.”
“That’s enough, Heather. Go to your room.”
Heather waited until she was almost to the door to turn and stick her tongue out at me, when she knew Mom wouldn’t see her. Heather didn’t always fight with me, but if she wasn’t the focus of our games she could only go a few hours at best without goading me about something or other.
Mom left her finger between the pages while she closed the book, a visual acknowledgement that we didn’t have to be finished. I appreciated her signal to me that Heather didn’t run every aspect of my life.
“Do you think I’m boring?” I squeaked out in a whisper.
“No. You’re kind, and caring, and a good girl. The world needs more of all those things.”
“I’d follow the rabbit, because I’d want to help him.”
“Of course you would.”
“And I like to have fun.”
She stretched her arm around my shoulders and pulled me against her before she uttered another word. “I know that, and Heather knows too. Don’t let her upset you.”
I tried not to. Really, I did.
When I woke up the next morning, though, I found a giant sign on my bedroom door that read BORINGLAND, and she refused to stop calling me Alex. Mom said to let her be and she’d forget it in a day or two.
Yet here I am, twenty-five years old, still letting it be. Still waiting for her to stop calling me Alex.
Chapter Three
Jake
There are times when an open highway feels less like an escape and more like a torment. Moments when the freedom it affords looks like a prison. Had it not been for my focus on the taillights of that old white Mitsubishi for the last hundred miles, I might have driven myself half mad thinking about the different directions this road could lead.
Truth be told, the only direction I wanted to travel was back. Back in time, back the other way, back home.
I suppose there’s a thought process a man goes through when he’s burned every bridge that held his life together in the first place. And mine are scorched, singed, and still smoldering. The only one remaining is the rickety rope bridge between my red pickup and that white car, and with one false move it might snap in two.
Alexis tried to sever it before we ever left Jackson. “You really don’t need to come along,” she insisted. “There are people who can help me move.”
But I’d made a promise, and I never break my promises.
… like I told you before, heartbreaker: I always keep my…
“Promises,” I state to the empty cab of the truck as I clench my fist around the steering wheel. “You can’t get any of it back, either. Everything…gone, just like that.”
The white Mitsubishi taps its brakes, so I slow a little behind the car, putting a few extra yards between us. She’s not exactly thrilled to have me accompanying her on this journey; I can see it in her eyes every time she glances up in the rearview, but I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging that fact. She can keep seething at me from a distance, and I’ll just pretend everything’s fine.
Trying to force my attention away from the situation, I tap the scan button on the radio dial, searching for a new station to fill the silence. Somehow winding up on static, I hit the button again.
Your cheating heart…
My palm slams into the button, silencing Hank before he gets out a full sentence. Not that he would make me feel guilty even if I heard it. After all, I haven’t done anything.
In my case, though, not doing anything is more than enough. At least if I’d done something, I’d be driving around with a memory instead of simply feeling like a tool. A memory worth having, at least, and not the one that keeps jogging through my mind. Blonde curls, toned legs, those tennis shoes pounding out a rhythm on the pavement in front of my truck while I let out a low whistle. That memory isn’t doing me any favors.
How do I look my best friend in the eye every day, knowing I want what he has? Knowing I want h
is wife?
Squinting my eyes, I force a shake of my head to steer clear of the things I said. To try to forget the way those blue eyes searched mine as I told her I never break my promises, even though I wanted to. A hundred times I wanted to. I wanted her.
It should have been harder to say, shouldn’t it? It should have stuck in my throat, where I’d have to force out the words almost against my will. Instead, it slid out effortlessly and uninhibited. Not like the words I said to him. Those edged out in reluctance and severed the strongest bonds of friendship I’ve ever created.
Recalling the conversation almost makes me sick. The sound of betrayal. The absolute self-loathing I felt at that moment.
Was it really only two days ago?
“Whatever it is that’s happened, it’ll be okay,” Parker told me over the phone. “You’ve been through tougher before, I’m sure. I’ve seen you go through some pretty rough times, Jake.”
“This one’s different. I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, so don’t run out on your friends. Camdyn and I will—”
“I can’t stop thinking about her.”
I hadn’t prepared to use those words. There was going to be a generalized reason I was leaving, some well wishes. But when he began trying to convince me not to leave, they immediately separated us like a giant wall.
“About who?”
I couldn’t…didn’t have the nerve to speak her name.
“Who?” Parker asked again, more forcefully this time. “Not Cam.”
“I swear to you, I haven’t touched her.”
“Haven’t touched her? You feel the need to tell me that? That I could even think she would…” His voice trailed off, thick with emotion. “Did you tell her this? Did you tell my…my wife…that you’re in love with her? Did you?”
“No, man. No.”
“Don’t. She’s dealing with enough crap right now. Don’t you dare add to her troubles, you hear me?”
Something popped in the background–a door being slammed, something being thrown–I couldn’t be certain.
“Answer me, Jake!”
“I heard you, okay? I heard you.”
“This is my fault, all of it. None of this would have happened if I was there.” His sigh was loud on the other end of the line. “What kind of husband am I? I can’t protect her from anything.”
“You should be home with her,” I agreed. “She needs you.”
“Shut up. I can’t believe you have the nerve to try to tell me what my wife needs. In fact, don’t even think about her.”
“I can’t control my—”
“Get it under control then.” Something else clanged in the background, and then I heard the sound of two boards banging together, along with a string of expletives. “You’re a lousy friend.” More expletives, causing me to cringe because Parker never swore. “That ever cross your mind? Maybe I shouldn’t be lusting after my best friend’s wife?”
“Of course it crossed my mind. That’s why I’ve never touched her.”
“Because if she was anybody else’s wife, what difference would it make? Just shoot first and ask questions later? You don’t know the guy, so what if you take his wife?”
“That’s what you think of me?”
The sound of boards slamming together sounded again in the background. “It’s not what I think, it’s what I know. We’re friends, remember? I know you’re a little fuzzy on the rules of that sort of relationship, but it entails having the other guy’s back. I didn’t drop my end of the bargain.”
I knew we were friends, too, because his accusation stung way more than it would have coming from anyone else.
“I’m still your friend, Parker.”
The noise on the other end of the line grew eerily quiet.
“Be a good role model for your daughter, then. And have a little self-control. I’d have told you that a long time ago if I wasn’t a lousy friend, too.”
The white Mitsubishi veers to the exit ramp, and I follow without a lot of thought. Alexis gave me the address in Louisville in case we got separated, but I have no intention of that happening. If not for that car leading me blindly the whole way there, I probably wouldn’t make it to the destination at all, simply because my heart’s not in it.
Bailey’s…
Well, she’s a definite puzzle to me. There’s a protective instinct when she’s with me, and I definitely care about what happens to her. She’s sort of cute, with her garbled words and the way she’s just figuring out how the world works. The fact that she has a dimple in her cheek like me is pretty cool, but I mostly enjoy that for the annoyance factor it provides when it comes to Alexis.
The thing that bothers me the most is the fact that I never feel like her dad. I feel like a sperm donor, pretty much confirming what Alexis has insinuated countless times, which also sets me on edge. Maybe that makes it harder for me to bond with Bailey—the fact that I know Alexis is her mother.
I should feel like her dad, right?
As she pulls into a McDonald’s parking lot, I sound my annoyance through a groan inside the cab of my truck. Getting this trip over with sooner rather than later is preferable. “Bailey needs to eat,” I can almost hear her saying. Most likely true, but even I know not to take a three-year-old into McDonald’s if you’re in a hurry. That’s practically a no-brainer.
It takes me a minute to park the truck with the trailer attached, and by the time I’m finished, the girls are already inside. Pulling open the glass door, I see the two of them standing near the counter. Dressed in a sports jersey and a baseball cap, if I saw Alexis from the back I might think she was a guy for a split second. Bailey is latched to her mom’s leg, brown curls slightly mashed against one side of her head like she was laying on them in the car. I step up just in front of Alexis and drag out my wallet.
“Hi Jay.”
“Hey Bailey.” Turning, I offer her a smile. “What’s up? You take a nap in the car?”
“I felled asleep.”
With nothing else to offer, I nod and glance at her mom. She never fights with me, but that’s only because something holds her back. Every time she looks at me, it’s plain to see she wants to tear me apart.
“What do you want, Bailey?” I ask. “Something to eat?”
“We can pay for our own food,” Alexis pipes up.
“Bailey can pay for her own food?”
She hesitates, probably thinking she didn’t word her statement exactly right, but I pushed her buttons and she doesn’t want to argue with me. Instead, she’ll clam up like she always does, her eyes burning a hole in my skull. Just once I wish she’d haul off and punch me and get it over with so we could act like civilized people for a change.
What she really meant to say was that she didn’t want to owe me anything, not even the couple bucks it takes to buy a cheeseburger. I received her message loud and clear.
“She likes hamburgers with nothing on them.”
I can tell Alexis would rather attempt walking on broken glass than give me that information. Part of me wants to shake her and tell her to knock it off, but it’s her game and I’m going to let her play it as long as she wants.
“Can I take your order, sir?” the teenage girl behind the counter asks. When I turn to look at her, she immediately clamps her gaze on her register.
“The little lady wants a hamburger meal with a milk, and she doesn’t want anything on the hamburger.” The cashier’s so wide-eyed, I try to put her at ease by smiling. “Sorry for being difficult, but what a lady wants, a lady gets, right?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she focuses on the register again. “Yes, sir.”
“Alexis?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, so I turn my head to where she’s standing behind me, wearing that look I’ve seen too many times to count.
“I’m not really hungry.”
Sure, she’s hungry. She’d rather starve than let me pay for her food, though, so we begin another round of
the game.
“I’ll have a Big Mac and a large coffee,” I tell the cashier, retrieving a ten dollar bill from my wallet.
“Will that be for here or to go?”
“Here.” The fact that I happen to say the word at the same time Alexis says “to go” causes the cashier’s eyes to dart back and forth between us. “Here, please. Thanks a lot.”
Bailey’s already noticed the play area and is pulling her mom’s arm trying to head in that direction. Since the choices are to head toward the slides or stand next to me, Alexis and Bailey quickly disappear.
She only lets Bailey play for about ten minutes before she takes her to wash her hands so she can eat her burger. My Big Mac is long gone, so there’s really nothing for the two of us adults to do but sit here awkwardly not talking to one another while Bailey eats. The fact that she’s a slow eater makes it even more excruciating.
Finally, she says she’s finished and Alexis breathes a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go to the restroom, sweetie,” she says to Bailey.
“Don’t need to.” She fumbles with the legs of the toy she received in her kids’ meal, moving them back and forth.
“I need to, so you have to come with me.”
“Go ahead, I’ll watch her,” I offer. There’s no mistaking that look on her face, and I have zero doubt that she wants to tell me no. How can she, though, when it seems so ridiculous? What possible explanation could she throw out for not letting me watch my own daughter while she goes to the restroom?
Rising from her chair, she refuses to look at me as she heads away. Bailey doesn’t look at me, either, being too invested in that toy she’s holding.
“Your daughter’s really well-behaved,” I hear a voice behind me. “You and your wife must be really proud of her.”
Turning, my eyes lock on a woman who looks to be in her mid- to late-forties, stylishly dressed and holding her phone in her hands.
“She’s not my wife, but thank you.”
“Her’s Alex,” Bailey says, which causes the stranger to smile at her.
“Your kids seem to be having fun,” I casually mention, hearing the ear-piercing screams coming from my right and attributing them to her offspring, since she’s the only other person in the area.
Curiouser (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 3) Page 2