Sculpt-Paige_Michaels-Becca_Jameson

by Becca Jameson

  Which made the bitterness of her departure all the more painful. She couldn’t tell him she was going. He’d talk her out of it. And her father would be left with no one to care for him. That was the reality of the situation. If Lucinda didn’t go, he’d be facing chemo appointments and radiation treatments alone.

  Lucinda shouldn’t hate her mother, but she couldn’t help the well of resentment running deep inside her. For the first time in her life, Lucinda had someone who cared about her. Someone who was able to give her everything she ever wanted. And now she had to leave him.

  She tugged her clothes on and slipped out the front door, walking to the end of the block to wait for her cab so she wouldn’t wake him. On the way back to her apartment, she called her boss at Terra Incognita and explained she needed a replacement for her classes. Family emergency. A weight rested on her chest. All the lightness she’d experienced in the scene with Theo disappeared.

  When Lucinda’s grandmother died, she’d left each of her grandchildren twenty-five thousand dollars. Lucinda called it her “rainy day” money and had only ever touched it once—when she’d been fired from the Loft and hadn’t gotten a new job yet. She hoped it would cover her rent for the rest of this year. She didn’t want to give up her apartment. It was a stupid thing, but she thought if she could hold on to that, maybe, maybe she’d be able to come back to the Twin Cities one day.

  She entered her apartment and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She didn’t want to leave, but there was no choice. For all her fuckups as a teenager, she couldn’t walk away when her family needed her. She brushed tears off her cheeks and began to pack.

  »»•««

  She’d gone missing. Theo had been to her apartment twice in the past week, and she wasn’t there. Endless unanswered phone calls and texts had his guts tied in knots. He’d pushed her too hard. She was scared of him and had disappeared. Finally, he called her workplace and found out she’d quit.

  Family emergency.

  Was it true? Did something happen with her parents? Is that why she’d come to him so wrecked that night?

  Dammit, he needed her to talk to him. He stared at the Minneapolis skyline from his large office windows. She’d given him so much trust that night, why couldn’t she trust him enough to tell him what was wrong?

  He pulled his phone out again and punched in another text. She hadn’t blocked him, at least, but he knew this would be yet another unanswered one. Still, he had to try. He got an idea and quickly deleted his first concerned text and typed in a new one.

  Theo: Brat. Every text and phone call unreturned is another paddle to your ass. You’re not going to be able to sit down for a week at this rate. I recommend letting me know where you’re hiding.

  He held his breath and hoped. Just as defeat started to settle in his stomach again, his phone pinged in response.

  Lucinda: I bet it will be more like a month by the time I get home, Master. You probably will wear yourself out before you even finish.

  The breath whooshed out of him. Yes. She was still his.

  Theo: You didn’t answer my question, brat. Where are you?

  His phone sat silently in his hand as he continued to stare out the window. Ten minutes later, it pinged a response.

  Lucinda: Georgia. At my parents’. Don’t try and find me. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I understand if you need to let go.

  Theo: I’m not letting go of anything, brat. You don’t get to walk away so easily.

  ∙•∙

  She was weak. She shouldn’t be texting him. She should cut off all communication. But her heart ached at the word “brat” on the screen, and she couldn’t stop herself. Her large family home felt like a tomb. Her mom was never around, and her dad spent most of the day sleeping, wrecked from either the cancer or the round of chemo he’d just been through. All ways, Lucinda spent most of her days alone, staring at her phone.

  She’d spoken to her father’s doctor, and it was way worse than what her parents had told her. Stage IV meant terminal, with maybe six months left to live. And the oncologist had emphasized that six months was generous. Lucinda argued with her mom that maybe they shouldn’t spend their last six months pumping Daddy full of medicine that made him sicker, but her mom accused her of being selfish and trying to get out of her responsibility.

  Lucinda sighed and brushed her finger across her phone, reading all of Theo’s texts again. She shouldn’t want him to wait for her. That was selfish, and she couldn’t guarantee when she’d be back. It wasn’t fair. She was about to thumb a text telling him to find another sub when the doorbell rang.

  She padded through the massive front foyer—almost as big as the one in Theo’s Eden Prairie home—and pulled open the door to find her brother and sister-in-law on the front porch, a giant sunflower bouquet in hand.

  “Jackson. Emma. How are you?”

  Emma plastered on a fake smile and leaned in to kiss both Lucinda’s cheeks. “Lucy honey, we heard you were home. Your daddy must be so happy.”

  “I’ve been here a week. You live next door.”

  They stepped inside, and Emma handed Lucinda her purse and the flowers. As if she were a coat-check girl. “Well, you know we’ve been wildly busy with Little Emma’s play rehearsals.” Yes, the woman named her daughter after herself. “She’s in Cinderella, did you hear?”

  “One of the stepsisters. I heard all about it,” Lucinda answered. Her mother could not stop talking about how talented and precious Little Emma was.

  Lucinda turned to her brother. “Can I get you something to drink while I put the flowers away, Jack?”

  “Sweet tea, Lucy. Thank you.” So her brother was in the off-again phase of his complicated relationship with alcohol. “With a thumb of whisky.” Or not.

  “Sweet tea for me too, Lucy honey,” Emma oozed. Jesus, the entire thing was like walking into a Tennessee Williams play.

  Lucinda forced a grin. “Coming right up.”

  When she returned with the tea, Jackson and Emma were standing in the living room, eyeing the place like they were real estate assessors. Her parents had it decorated like a Southern plantation, old things and old money seeping out of every corner. If Jack and Emma had been normal human beings, Lucinda wouldn’t be able to blame them. Everyone who’d ever entered this home all of Lucinda’s life had gazed around licking their lips like they were in a candy store. It was that fantastic.

  Her father co-owned an exclusive antique furniture store right in town. The store had been his father’s before him, and it had been in business for over a hundred years, owned and operated now by the sons of the two original owners.

  Lucinda had never been interested in antiques even though she had an eye for art and had always loved sculpture and pottery. But she could appreciate the family home through the eyes of a stranger. The entire place was like stepping into the past.

  She glanced around, wondering what her crazy sister-in-law was thinking. “So what’s up?” Lucinda asked.

  Emma’s mouth dipped into a frown. “We’re here to see Daddy, of course.”

  Not your daddy, you plastic money-grubber. Jackson worked for their father, though what he exactly did was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the box, and Lucinda had long suspected her dad gave Jackson the job because he wasn’t sure anyone else would hire Jack. Too many brain cells had poured out of him leading his college team to football nirvana.

  “He’s sleeping,” Lucinda said. “He sleeps most days.” She faced her brother. “I’m really worried, Jack.”

  Jackson took a long gulp of his tea and whisky and shrugged. “He’s Daddy. Nothing can keep him down for long.”

  “The oncologist said six months, at best.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a stumble. The chemo will straighten it all out.”

  Lucinda blinked. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her brother had long denied anything messy in the world, hiding first behind football and then behind booze like they could shield him from
reality. Which maybe they could.

  Emma sat primly on the floral turn-of-the-century sofa like a dainty butterfly. “We’re sure he’ll make a full recovery, but this little spell has had me and Jack thinking. Daddy needs to get his affairs in order, make sure he doesn’t leave Mama with all these complications.”

  Lucinda narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law. She’d heard this sort of thing before. Emma had been angling to have Jack take over the company from the minute she married him. Constantly going on about how it’s a family business and Jackson’s legacy. “What are you saying, Emma?”

  Emma frowned even deeper. “Lucy dear, I think you know what I’m saying. Daddy doesn’t have a will. I’ve been on him about it for years. But he’s always thought he was invincible. Jackson’s future needs to be ensured. So does Little Emma’s.”

  “I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it.”

  Emma huffed. “Well, I suspect the reason he hasn’t done it is that he’s been waiting for you to come home. The proverbial prodigal daughter. And it may be all well and good that you’re here now, but what’s to stop you from taking Daddy’s money and flitting after some pipe dream and leaving the rest of us here to pick up the pieces?”

  “Flitting after a pipe dream?” Lucinda wanted to punch the smirk off Emma’s face.

  “You went to art school. You make pots, Lucy dear. Let’s not pretend this is making the world a better place. I mean, you lost your last job.”

  Lucinda shook her head. She was so done. “You should go. Both of you. This isn’t my business, and I have no say over what Daddy does.” Nor did she care.

  A noise sounded from the hall, and Lucinda looked back to see her frail father leaning heavily against the doorframe. A lump formed in her throat.

  “Lucy honey, I was hoping you could make me some soup.”

  Lucinda crossed to him. “Sure, Daddy. Let’s get you back in bed, and I’ll bring it up to you.”

  Emma rose and grasped Jackson’s elbow. “We’re so happy to see you up and about, Daddy.”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbled and allowed Lucy to lead him from the room.

  “Think about what we were saying, Lucy honey. And come by for a visit. Little Emma would love to see you,” Emma called after her.

  Lucinda tucked the blankets around her father, but he clung to her hand as she pulled away. “Daddy?”

  “Can’t let those two have my money. You understand? Can’t let Jackson drive the business into the ground. Call my lawyer.”

  “Shh, Daddy. It’s okay.” She smoothed the few strands of his hair away from his clammy brow.

  “Waited for you, baby girl,” he murmured, and then fell into a deep sleep.

  She went downstairs to make a bowl of soup for him and herself. She hadn’t been eating well, and part of her wondered if Theo would notice she’d lost weight. Theo. He seemed so far away, more like a dream than anything real. What had Emma called it? A pipe dream.

  Her family had made no bones about their disgust in her artist lifestyle. Even Daddy, who usually didn’t weigh in on small picture things like that, had asked her if she was ever going to get a real job. But she loved everything about working with clay, and her fingers itched even now to start a new project.

  Her mother walked in as she was ladling the soup into bowls.

  “I saw Emma and Jackson. They said they stopped by.”

  Lucinda nodded. “Yes. Emma’s exactly the same. She wants Daddy’s money.”

  Mama raised a shoulder. “That’s for him to decide.”

  Lucinda put down the ladle and looked at her. “Are you kidding? He’s sick as hell. He can’t make those kind of decisions in this state.”

  “Well, he would have made them a long time ago if you hadn’t run off to the north and decided to pursue your art. How could he leave you half the business when you’re completely unreliable? I don’t know what I did to earn two such worthless children.”

  A breath whooshed out of Lucinda. She could be calm. She could ignore all the biting responses she wanted to offer. She dug her fingers into her palm. “Mama. I don’t want half of Daddy’s business. This isn’t my home.” She’d never wanted anything to do with the family business. And she’d made that clear more times than she could count over the years, even moving across the country to escape her mother’s nagging.

  Her mother shook her head. “Always so selfish. Such a selfish, selfish girl.”

  Then her mother walked from the room without offering another word.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Three days later, Theo landed at the Atlanta airport. He’d had Camille clear his schedule for the rest of the week, and from a quick Google search, found the address for Lucinda’s parents’ house in Decatur. Whether she realized it or not, she needed him. All that passive-aggressive nonsense about letting her go. Classic brat. She might as well have texted him a picture of herself offering him the whip.

  He pulled his rental into the driveway of a large house. Almost as big as his own home. Her father owned a fairly successful furniture business. It was privately held and seemingly worth a pretty decent chunk of change if he ever decided to go public with it. No wonder his brat had never been that impressed with his home. She’d grown up surrounded by Georgia wealth.

  Theo left his bag in the trunk of the rental and walked toward the front door. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He shouldn’t feel like this. Not as a Dom. Not as the man his Lucy had claimed to be in love with. He pulled his shoulders back and rang the bell.

  When the door swung open, the gut-punch of relief at seeing her nearly brought him to his knees. He dragged her into his arms and devoured her with a kiss. Ragingly inappropriate in front of her family home, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Finally, he pulled away.

  “I’m very disappointed in you, brat,” he said with a wide smile. He traced his fingers over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She appeared thinner, but he couldn’t tell completely.

  She slipped out of his arms and stepped back. “I told you not to come, Theo.”

  “You did.”

  She raised her brows. “So? What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t come isn’t your safe word.”

  She barked out a laugh then, and it lit up her whole face. “You’re relentless.”

  “Yes. And you love me.”

  She looked away, but he forced her chin up with one finger. She licked her lips, and he wanted to devour her all over again. “Yes, Master,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  “Then invite me inside and tell me everything.”

  She nodded, linked her fingers with his, and drew him into the living room. He was stunned. He could see how his brat would suffocate in this environment. He almost hesitated to sit on the furniture himself. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find so many antiques considering the business her father owned, but Lucinda looked completely out of place.

  “We have to keep it down. My dad’s resting.”

  “You’re here alone with him?”

  “My mom has other commitments.”

  He searched her face. “Something is wrong with your dad?”

  She released a long breath and perched on the edge of a floral couch with intricately designed curved wooden legs. “He’s dying,” she said, and tears pressed against her lashes. He sat next to her and brushed them away. “Pancreatic cancer. They needed me here to help.”

  There was more to it than that. Theo could tell. But he’d tackle one thing at a time. “How are you doing?”

  Her hand trembled as he squeezed it. “I’m scared. My dad, he’s always been this guy. This strong imposing authority who had this solid center line. Even when he was so obviously wrong, he never changed his mind. But now, it’s like he can’t even stand on his own two feet. He’s completely lost and only has moments of lucidity. I don’t know if it’s the cancer or the chemo, but I barely even recognize him. And sometimes he gets so angry. Yells and screams in frustration, and there’s only me here
. But you know what’s worse?”

  He squeezed her hand again. “What?”

  “Times like now. When he’s so quiet. I watch him sleep, and there are moments when I’m not even sure he’s still breathing. Daddy has never been like that. Ever.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and breathed her in. He’d never seen her like this. So vulnerable.

  They stayed like that a long time, but then he heard a noise come from the kitchen, and Lucinda shot off the couch, her shoulders back and her head down. Like a submissive. A small woman with white-blonde overly sprayed hair walked in and appraised Theo.

  “Who’s this, Lucy?”

  The way she said Lucy sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Theo. No wonder Lucinda had never used the nickname.

  “Mama, this is my friend Theo from Minneapolis. Theo, this is my mother.”

  “Mrs. Chatman, it’s very nice to meet you.” He tried his least intimidating smile, but she didn’t drop the skeptical expression from her face.

  “Nice to meet you too, Theo. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m sure Lucy here has told you she has responsibilities to her ailing father. You’ll need to go.”

  Theo blinked. Holy crap. Did this pint-size matron just dismiss him? She had a wide grin on her face, and he thought of a great white shark. No wonder Lucinda was so mousy around the woman. She was a first-class bitch. His heart ached for the pain this so-called mother had undoubtedly caused his Lucy for most of her life.

  Lucinda’s face pleaded with him to leave when he glanced at her.

  It took all his energy not to put her mother in her place and teach her some manners, but he didn’t want to do anything to upset Lucinda more than she already was. Her mother may be a bitch, but Lucinda obviously loved her father.