She should have known. The last twenty-three days by Chuck’s side, with him whispering such wonderful things to her, had been beautiful. Too beautiful. Too much laughter. Too much understanding. Too many flutters beneath her ribs at his touch. Too many assurances that he was there to stay.
It was too good to be true. She should have seen it. Should have protected herself from it. And now? Even if he could stand to be with her, even if they could trust themselves after this breach of propriety, how could it work? Her own step-brother had killed Chuck’s father. And though she wasn’t close with Wade or his sons, it didn’t change the fact that, because of a contract between her mother and Wade, she was linked with Tanner Simmons for as long as her mother was. No matter what trail she followed, all scenarios led back to the impossibility of their relationship working.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at her eyes in disgust. Was she honestly feeling bad for herself in that moment? What must Chuck be feeling? She imagined it was like losing his father all over again. The grief fresh, and bleak—unbearable.
Lillian’s love for Chuck choked her, the pain dancing from concern for him, to her own heartache over what was surely the end of their relationship. Her head throbbed, her heart so heavy she was certain it was cracking open.
A trill chirp rang through the dark. A text.
Lillian straightened, wiping her tears again with the back of her hand, sniffing, chest heaving on barely suppressed sobs. Shaky legs carried her to the entryway. She wiped damp palms on her shorts and knelt to retrieve her purse from the floor, fumbling for the phone. She willed the text to be from Chuck. A word of hope to erase the last hour.
But it was Drew’s number that flashed across the screen. Drew’s illegible text.
A wave of nausea overtook her, the taste of metal overwhelming. As if she needed the stark reminder of her transgressions. Her fingers squeezed the phone hard enough to send waves of pain through her hand. The urge to chuck it into the wall was strong. Instead, she blocked his number and set the phone back onto the table, reaching down to retrieve the end of the charging cord from the plug in the wall. She heard Chuck’s door open and then close. Heard his key in the lock and his heavy steps on wood planks coming closer…and then passing her door.
Her pounding heart throbbed to full capacity, then sank, playing dead at the bottom of her ribs.
Numbly, Lillian brushed her teeth and washed her face. She slipped into bed, not bothering to change into pajamas, and pulled one of the pillows close to her chest. Tears came again, and, knowing Chuck wouldn’t hear her, she gave in to her need to cry.
Chapter Forty-One
Chuck slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, barely holding back a curse. His chest tightened at the sudden concern for restraint. Where was that virtue an hour earlier?
He drove aimlessly, following one winding country road after another. He’d rolled both windows down, slid the back window panel as wide as it would go. Hot, balmy air filtered through the truck, making sweat break out onto his forehead. His t-shirt stuck to his back. He cranked the music to full volume—something fast and careless. His thoughts raced through his mind, though he tried to outrun them. He could use a ride on one of those Harley’s parked in front of Sheila’s house.
Chuck shook his head in disgust. How had he, a man that strove to live by God’s standards, let bitterness grow so deep? Even more, how did he let things get so out of control with Lillian? While, technically, they’d done no more than kiss…the intention for more was there. If she hadn’t stopped him…
He did curse this time. After all he had said to her, the promises he had made, still he betrayed her. Had used her to feed his own hungry desperation to escape the rage he’d felt shaking Tanner’s hand. Had sought release and oblivion in her embrace. He rubbed beneath his mouth with the back of his hand. He could still taste the kisses seasoned with her tears. Could still feel the hopeless tremble that had shaken Lillian when he’d first pulled her close.
Oh, God, I betrayed her. And You. You told me to forgive. To forgive as I have been forgiven. And I’ve held on to this hatred, this anger. I didn’t realize how dark and deep it was until I was face to face with him. As he prayed it flared up again, hot and feral. The memories of that day—and the weeks, months, years that followed—washed over him. Raw pain. Excessive loss. Charles Edgar Davis’ death had been a sink hole. Unexpected and terrifying, pulling down all that they’d known with it.
It had taken years to fit into a new life, a new routine. One that didn’t replace his father but grew beside the one that he’d once filled, gently curving parallel to it until, like a stream branching off from a river, it veered away into new territory. It wasn’t until he’d met Lillian that he felt fully alive again. Seeing Tanner erased all the years in between that day and the present.
Chuck pulled over and pounded his head against hands that gripped the top of the steering wheel. Wept as he had in those early days. For even now, he needed his father. Needed to ask him how he could go back after he’d screwed everything up so completely. Needed his help showing Lillian that even though he was fallible, God was not.
God was not fallible. He was sovereign. The thought dug into him sharp, catching. God, for whatever reason, had allowed Chuck to fall in love—because that’s where he was, in love—with a woman that would lead him right into the path of Tanner Simmons. And if Chuck wanted to continue to love that woman and cultivate a relationship with her—if she would have him after he’d broken her trust—he’d have to face his demons.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, or what made him finally pull back onto the road. He turned down the music as the truck rumbled past farm fields and into sleepy neighborhoods. Within minutes he found the street he was looking for. His headlights caught the reflection of the eyes of a cat on the side of the road a few feet away just before it darted to a yard across the street. He slowed, the rumble of his truck quieting enough to hear the tck-tck-tck-shhhhtik of sprinklers in the distance.
Chuck found the house easily; a row of motorcycles still lined the street. He drove past it and circled around again, then pulled over and cut the engine.
For hours, he sat in the dark around the corner. Laughter and jovial shouts floated from the backyard. Every once in a while, someone would emerge from the side gate and climb into their car or straddle a motorcycle. Each time, Chuck watched carefully, scanning the men’s faces. When they drove his direction, he pulled his hat low and looked away.
He couldn’t explain what he was doing there. Only knew he couldn’t go on the way he was. He vacillated between despair and murderous anger. He only wanted to be free—by whatever means necessary.
Finally, the face he’d been looking for emerged from the side gate. Tanner followed Luke to one of the Harleys, and waited for Luke to take the front before climbing on behind him. Tanner leaned back, one hand resting on a thigh, the other on the seat behind him.
Chuck waited for the bike to roar to life before he started his truck. Once Luke passed, Chuck turned his truck around, lights off, until they reached the main road. He waited for two cars to pass between him and the brothers before turning to follow.
Chapter Forty-Two
Lillian walked through a barren field. The ground beneath her was packed with rocks. Hard. Unrelenting. Thorny brown bushes and withered scraps of weeds dotted the landscape as far as she could see.
Nothing of value could grow here.
She wandered for hours, following twisted paths in search of water, trees—proof of life. But each curve and every grueling climb up a steep path produced nothing but the same drab, unyielding land.
Her heart quickened when a man appeared over a hill in the distance. She raised her arms above her head, waving frantically, calling out. He didn’t look up. She watched as he knelt to scoop grainy earth into his hand to examine it before he let it filter back through his fingers, mouth set in a firm line.
At long last, he looked up an
d noticed Lillian. She cupped her hands around her mouth to shout, “Hey! Can you show me the way out of this place?”
Instead of answering, a warmth worked over his features, from a slow grin to a spark of wonderment in his eyes. She felt the light of it penetrate the darkest recesses of her very being. Until, just as suddenly as he’d come, he turned his back on her and ran.
Lillian blinked, the loss of his absence acute. Unbearable. Her knees hit the hard earth, sharp rocks digging into her skin. A wild keen of despair tore from her lips. Her chest heaved, head buzzing, ears ringing…
The phone was ringing.
Lillian woke with a start, blinking into the thick darkness. She took inventory of her current state—wrinkled shorts, and tank top twisted around her torso. The shrill ring broke the silence again.
The office phone was ringing.
Lillian bolted from bed, praying it was Chuck, and just as suddenly realizing that he wouldn’t call the office phone. She hit her pinky toe on the corner of the desk as she lurched across the room to snatch the phone off its cradle.
“Hel-lo?” She barely ground out the words without a curse behind it.
“Oh, Lillian. I’m so, so sorry to wake you.”
That voice sounded familiar. A sort of husky velvet. Stephanie Dougal? The sweet twenty-something that had recently rented her old studio?
“Stephanie?”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry I’m calling this late,” she said, her tone apologetic.
Lillian leaned against the desk, lifting the hurt foot to rest on the inside of her standing leg. She cleared her throat and ground a palm into her puffy eyes.
“It’s fine. That’s what the after-hours number is for. What’s up?”
“Well, there’s a guy that’s trying to buzz into the building. I think he’s drunk.”
“Oh no. Do you want me to call the police for you?” It wasn’t the first time a patron of the bar next door had stumbled to the front doors and picked a random apartment to buzz them in. Though, usually, her tenants would call the police themselves, and she’d find out about it the next day. Lillian woke her computer to check the time in the corner of the screen. 2:48 in the morning. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Well…I could just call Uber for him,” Stephanie answered. “But, he’s asking for you.”
Lillian’s eyebrows folded together. “Me?”
“I tried to tell him this isn’t your apartment anymore, but he won’t listen. I didn’t want to give him your apartment number just in case. I have a friend that has an ex that just won’t get lost. She had to move and change her number and—”
Lillian heard the buzzer in the background. A warbled shout through the speaker, “Lill-i-annn!”
Her heart sank. “I’ll take care of it right now. I’m so sorry, Stephanie.”
Stephanie apologized again.
Sweet thing. “No, Stephanie, I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it,” she repeated and hung up the phone. She looked around for her sandals, found them at the foot of the bed. Her heart pounded as she toed into them one at a time. By the time she’d tromped down four flights of stairs, she was boiling with rage.
When she reached the lobby, she could see Drew, his back pressed against one of the glass doors, cheek leaning on the side of the intercom system. She flung open the second door, alarmed to see that his finger was now holding down the buzzer to Stephanie’s apartment without letting up.
Poor girl. Lillian snatched his hand away. “Drew! Stop it!”
He spun to face her, stumbling. He reeked of alcohol. One flip-flop twisted under his fumbling misstep and tripped him. He fell, half on her and half on the door, his watch scratching against the glass.
“Lill-i-annnn…” he smiled sleepily. “I knew you’d let me in. Why were you pretending you didn’t know me?” The smile fell away, replaced with a childish pout. She’d seen him this drunk a few times before and knew he was beyond reasoning with.
Still, she tried, “Drew, you can’t be here. That wasn’t my apartment you were buzzing. You have to leave. I’ll call you a cab or Uber or something.” She patted her pockets and groaned. Her phone was still plugged in upstairs.
“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I thought you just wanted me to just come over.” He leaned his head back against the door, using it to hold himself steady. He closed his eyes.
Not only was he beyond reasoning with, but from her experience, he was near to passing out on top of it. Perfect. He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “I miss you, Lillian.”
She shook her head, taking a step back. “Drew. You can’t be here. You need to call Hilary.”
He shook his head hard enough to knock himself off balance again. “Can’t. She’s busy sleeping with her boss.”
No wonder he’d been calling her lately. She must seem like an easy rebound in his eyes. Lillian felt a shimmer of satisfaction that Hilary was giving Drew a taste of what he’d put her through. She grimaced at her own unkindness. Lord…help me do right the right thing here.
“Drew, I’m sorry. I really am. But you can’t be here. You need to leave.” She pressed her security code into the pad on the door, pulled it open just enough for her body to squeeze through, and shut it before he could follow. A distant buzz stopped her as she hit the bottom stair. She turned. Drew looked through the glass at her, his finger on the buzzer once again, a wolfish grin on his face. Her sandals slapped on the hard marble, and the door thundered open.
She slapped his hand away again. Shoved him hard in the chest. So much for holding herself together. “Stop it. I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave.”
He smirked and crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”
Her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected him to call her bluff. She licked her lips. “I uh…left my phone upstairs.”
He lifted his finger toward the buzzer again. She snatched it away. “Please, stop.”
He took advantage and grabbed her hand in his. “I’ll make you a deal Lee. Let me come upstairs, just to talk, and I’ll leave.”
She considered her options. Chuck was upstairs. What would it look like to come home with Drew after all that had happened between them? But what choice did she have? She had to go upstairs for her phone. And even if he behaved and left like she wanted him to, how was she to be sure he wouldn’t drive drunk? After all, Tanner’s decision to drive drunk was the cause of all of Chuck’s pain…and now hers.
Maybe if she explained it to Chuck, he could get Drew to leave her alone. She sighed, heart ticking faster at the thought of facing him—at even just the few minutes it would take her to explain why Drew was there in the first place. He’d understand her predicament, right? Any other night and she would have been certain of it. But now…
Lillian scanned the street. Maybe a police car would just happen to be driving by, and she could wave it down. But it was eerily quiet. Not another soul in sight. The bars had closed, but food trucks were open and set up five blocks away. More than likely, most late-night patrons had funneled there.
Lillian sighed long and loud, resigned. She didn’t have a choice. Not wanting to wrestle Drew up six flights of stairs, she pressed the button for the elevator. It took some time to get Drew into the small, mirrored box. He leaned all of his weight against her as the doors slid closed. Lillian rarely used the elevator; she found it too confining and old for her comfort. Drew’s heavy breath on her neck made it ten times worse.
At her floor, he pulled hard toward the old studio. In his state, Lillian was shocked he remembered where she lived the one time he’d dropped by after their break-up. She tugged his arm in the other direction. “Nope. This way.”
“Hey!” his shout echoed in the hallway. She shushed him.
“Hey…” he whispered almost as loud as he’d shouted and snickered. “Where are you taking me?”
She circled around and pushed on his back, desperate to get his loud voice out of the hallway before he disturbed her tenants. Or Chuck. Please,
God, don’t let him come out here until I can explain.
“I moved. Just shut up until I get you there,” she hissed, her patience worn down to nothing.
She opened her door and led Drew in, impatient with his low whistle. She shut the door as quietly as she could, cheeks burning at Drew’s loud volume. Surely, Chuck would notice a man’s voice in her apartment after two in the morning?
“Fancy digs, Lee. How can you afford this on minimum wage?”
She scrunched her nose at him. “Minimum wage?”
“You can’t be making much more than that in that bakery.” He shuffled over to her windows.
Ah. As usual, even h4ammered beyond belief, Drew’s mind was on money. She unplugged her phone from the charging cord and pocketed it. He turned around and flopped into her favorite chair.
“Drew, I just need to, uh, slip out for a minute.”
He didn’t answer.
Lillian slipped into the hall and paused to take a deep breath before knocking on Chuck’s door. She waited. Then knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. She pulled her phone out and called, not daring to knock any louder than she already had. She willed him to answer, but after a while his voicemail kicked on. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. The familiar sound of his baritone voice washed over her. She barely remembered to hang up before it beeped. What could she say?
Lillian turned back toward her apartment, but stood frozen in the hallway. Shoot. She could call the police to come get Drew, but doubted she could get him back downstairs.
Which meant the police would be stomping through the halls, possibly waking her neighbors and drawing their attention to her situation. She sighed and crept as quietly as she could back into her apartment. Drew was right where she’d left him, snoring softly. Lillian glared at him on her way to her room, shutting the door behind her. In her bathroom, she threw some toiletries into a small bag, as well as pajamas and a change of clothes. She called Tiffany, relieved when her friend answered, albeit groggily, on the third ring.
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