The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  Zoe swallowed past the lump in her throat. “That’s up to you. It’s whatever you make it, and the sky’s the limit.”

  Brooke nodded as a genuine smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but the medical team soon surrounded the girl, and Zoe lost sight of her. She walked by the nurses’ station, and Nurse Benson eyed her wearily. She ignored the woman and headed outside to sit on the steps and wait for Michael. Her car was in the shop—something with a hose or a belt—she wasn’t sure which, nor did she really care. Luckily, it was supposed to be fixed by tomorrow. Kids were getting together at Sadie’s Hollow in a few days, and she was hell-bent on dragging her straitlaced, violin-wielding best friend to a real high school field party.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her head to rest on her knees. “All right, universe, don’t be a giant dick. How about you let Brooke have a long, beautiful life.” She exhaled and hummed the Buddhist Om mantra.

  Her mother used to be a social worker but had retired from the profession to pursue her passion for yoga. Over the last couple of years, a small army of Buddha statues, mandala art, and crystals of all shapes and sizes had made their way into the Stein residence.

  She’d never in a million years admit to it, but she liked the idea that everything was connected. It comforted her to think that if she put good out into the world, the kindness would ripple and grow.

  She closed her eyes. “Om,” she breathed, her breath tickling her kneecaps.

  “Everything okay, Z?”

  Zoe cut off the mantra and whipped her head up to find Michael MacCarron staring at her.

  “Jesus, Michael! You scared the shit out of me!”

  He reached down, gave her his hand, and helped her to her feet. “I wasn’t sure how long you wanted me to let you sit on the steps like some little vibrating roly-poly.”

  “I do not look like a roly-poly!”

  “Sure, Z, there’s nothing at all bizarre about balling yourself up on the steps of a hospital and humming. I’m surprised security didn’t scoop you up and drop you off at the psychiatric center next door.”

  Zoe walked down the steps and got into Michael’s old Range Rover. “Ha ha! You are one hilarious, ginger-headed, weapons-grade douche canoe.”

  Michael settled into the driver’s seat. “Christ, Zoe! That was a good one.”

  “Somebody’s got to keep you in line. We wouldn’t want your ego getting too big with all those cheerleaders throwing themselves at you.”

  A blush crept up Michael’s neck.

  She’d hit a nerve. That was the trouble with being the town jester. Sometimes, you went too far. She shifted gears. “Okay, what’s on tap for tonight? Yesterday, you said you needed some help with your DJ stuff.”

  Music was Michael’s passion, but his father was unrelenting on having him follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. Anytime he got to talk about music, his demeanor instantly improved.

  The blush receded, and Michael grinned. “I’ve got a gig, Z. A real gig where I get to DJ in a bar downtown.”

  “How’d you get it? You’re not advertising, are you?”

  “Hell no! My dad would shit a brick. I met a guy at a record store in Westport. We got to talking about music, and he asked if I wanted to DJ tonight in his bar.”

  “Does he know you’re only eighteen?”

  Michael glanced over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “He never asked my age, so I’m not purposefully deceiving him. Had he requested the information, I would have provided it.”

  She shook her head. “I know you don’t want to be a lawyer, but holy shit, dude, you’re really good at it.”

  “What do you say, Z? Want to be my groupie?”

  “Screw that! I’m your manager.”

  “So, you’re in?”

  “Let’s see. You’re offering me a night to get into a bar, order fancy drinks, and listen to your kickass music. Hell yes, I’m in! Plus, my parents are leaving for Arizona today! I could stay out all freaking night!”

  Michael held out his hand. “Here’s to being young and stupid.”

  Zoe smacked him a high five. “May we always be this idiotically clueless!”

  2

  Sam Sinclair swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Kara, I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”

  “I thought you cared about me, Sam? I thought you were falling in love with me!”

  Sam stared out at Lake Boley, wishing the ground would swallow him up. He hated this. He hated being the bad guy. His whole life, he’d been the kind, helpful friend, always there to lighten the mood, but it had gone too far with his ex-girlfriend, Kara Henshaw.

  Sam glanced around the Langley Park Botanic Gardens. It was early August, and the foliage burst with vibrant pinks, blues, and greens. Couples walked hand in hand, while children skipped along the winding paths. But none of the serenity or the surrounding beauty could soften what he had to do.

  And why the hell did he pick this place to talk to her? He’d thought meeting in public would be easier. When he’d gone to her campus apartment to tell her he wanted to break up, she’d thrown every glass in her cabinet at him. She’d swung back and forth between rage and inconsolable grief, and all he could picture was his mother.

  He gestured to a bench, and they sat. Kara lowered her head, and her dark hair obscured the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “We were so happy in Ecuador last semester. Remember that necklace you gave me for my twenty-first birthday? I thought it meant maybe we’d move in together, get an apartment near college now that we’re back in Kansas,” she squeaked between sobs.

  He shook his head. He’d given plenty of his friends—men and women—birthday gifts over the years. He’d given her the necklace simply to be kind. Christ! He didn’t think she’d assume it meant they’d live together. “Kara, I really liked getting to know you in Ecuador, but we never talked about anything like that.”

  Sam leaned forward and placed his elbows on knees, his gaze trained on the water. They’d met during last semester’s study abroad program in Quito, Ecuador. He wasn’t even sure when they’d become a couple. She was just always there—sitting next to him in class or working alongside him during their service project hours building schools in remote areas.

  At first, he’d loved her company. She’d seemed so vibrant and independent, but despite his initial impressions, the warning signs were there. A week after they’d gotten to Quito, he’d caught her going through his dorm room. She’d looked through every drawer and every notebook. She’d found an old photograph of his childhood pals he’d kept tucked in his journal and demanded to know the identity of every girl in the picture. But then, she’d seesaw back to being sweet and affectionate, and he’d brushed off the erratic outburst.

  Kara rubbed the back of her wrist against her nose and sniffled. “I thought you loved me. Why else would you have slept with me?”

  His blood burned with shame and regret. “I know, Kara, and I’m sorry. I really care about you, but I think we were both on a different page when it comes to what’s going on between us.”

  She clutched his forearm. The tears had dried up, and her eyes blazed with fury. “I didn’t think you were one of those kind of guys who used women then threw them away when they’re done.”

  His chest tightened. Images of his mother with her dark auburn hair that matched his flashed through his mind. It was night. She was always worse at night. She’d pace the house and scream at his father, her rants making no sense as she raged. He’d sneak into his little brother Gabe’s room to make sure the boy didn’t wake to witness her episodes.

  “Kara, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. It’s better if we’re not together. You deserve someone who can make you happy.”

  What else was there to say? In a few weeks, he’d be starting his junior year of college and doing another study abroad semester. She’d flipped when he told her—purposefully making sure it was too late for her to try and join the prog
ram.

  Dammit! He shouldn’t have let it go as far as it did. And he sure as fuck shouldn’t have slept with her. But she’d begged him. That was her way. She’d fly off the handle, and then she’d switch back to that sweet, remorseful girl who’d tell him she’d only gotten that upset because she cared so deeply for him. She’d shower him with whisper-soft kisses until he gave in and would give her what she wanted.

  It was all crystal clear now. She used sex as a means to gloss over her unhinged behavior. And he’d fallen for it: hook, line, and sinker.

  Her head whipped back and forth, gauging the crowd. It was midday, and there were people everywhere. He could tell she was deciding if she wanted to throw a full-blown tantrum right there in front of dozens of people. He held his breath. His body used to their dysfunctional rhythm.

  In a whoosh of overdramatic movement, she pushed off the bench and stood up. With him still sitting, they were eye to eye. “You’re going to be sorry, Sam Sinclair. You can’t just treat me like garbage and throw me away.”

  “I never meant—”

  The crack of her hand meeting his cheek stopped his reply.

  She held his gaze, eyes burning, as a few audible gasps escaped from the folks who’d had the unfortunate luck to be passing by their bench. “I’m leaving! You don’t deserve me!”

  Sam rubbed his cheek. Despite the pain, relief flooded his system. It had to be over. He’d tried to end it weeks ago, but then she’d cried and apologized, and he’d been back at square one.

  No, this had to be the end.

  “That had to hurt.”

  Sam looked up and shook his head. “Did it look as bad as I think it did?”

  His friend, Ben Fisher crossed his arms. “I only caught the tail end of it, but if you mean, did it look like a guy trying to break up with his girlfriend in public so she couldn’t throw a fit, but she threw one anyways? Then yeah, it looked just like that.”

  A wave of nausea washed over him. He’d never meant to hurt Kara. But everything had snowballed into a giant clusterfuck. Knowing her mood swings, he should have expected it.

  Ben clapped him on the back. “You’ll survive.”

  Even though Ben was a couple of years older than he was, they’d always been close. Ben’s younger half sister, Zoe Stein, was best friends with Em MacCaslin, the girl who lived next door to his cousin, Michael MacCarron. Growing up, Sam and his brother, Gabe, spent quite a bit of time at their cousin’s house. When they were kids, Ben and Sam were the oldest of the pack, often charged with taking the younger kids to the park or to the lake to play. Now, his brother, his cousin, and Zoe were all eighteen—adults—but he hadn’t shared any of the drama regarding Kara with anyone but Ben.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam asked, coming to his feet. “I didn’t think we were going to grab a drink until later—and there’s nowhere decent to get a beer in Langley Park.”

  Ben swallowed hard. He was a reserved guy. Not a jerk, but someone who was regimented and methodical. Ben rubbed his hands together, and Sam did a double take. He’d never seen his friend this agitated.

  Ben cleared his throat. “I just did something big, and I needed to get out of my head and process things. I figured the gardens were as good a place as any.”

  “Aren’t you leaving for Phoenix tonight with your parents to meet Sara’s mother?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, I figured it was time for our parents to meet. We’ve been together for a while now.”

  “It’s kind of a big deal, flying out to meet your girlfriend’s family.”

  Ben dug his hands into his pockets. “It’s just her mom. Sara’s father died when she was young.”

  “Like you.”

  Ben nodded. “We have a lot in common and not just our dads. I’m studying architecture, and she’s in landscape design.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I have a pretty good idea of the something big you just did. Do you have it with you?”

  Ben sat down on the bench, and Sam joined him.

  “I don’t want to put all this on you, especially after what you’ve been going through with Kara,” Ben said, staring out at the water.

  Sam let out a long breath. “Whatever I had with Kara was a mistake. I knew we weren’t right for each other. I didn’t love her. I feel like an asshole for saying it, but it had to end. And I should have known it was going to end badly.”

  Ben shifted on the bench. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, man. Breakups are never easy.”

  “Bro, you’re stalling. Let me see it.”

  Ben reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny black box, and passed it over.

  “You know, anybody walking by is going to think I just broke up with my girlfriend only to be proposed to by my boyfriend.”

  Ben chuckled, and the nervous edge he’d been carrying seemed to lessen. “That’s okay. It’s Langley Park. We’re pretty progressive here.”

  “Scarred hearts and second chances. Welcome to Langley Park,” Sam teased.

  “Now you’re stalling, Sinclair. Open the box.”

  He lifted the lid and exactly what he’d expected to see met his gaze. A diamond twinkled in the bright Kansas sun. “This isn’t your mom’s ring—the one your dad gave her.” Even though Ben’s mother had remarried, they’d kept many photographs of Ben’s father in the house, and this wasn’t the vintage ring pictured on Ben’s mother’s hand in his parents’ wedding photo.

  “No, my mom offered it to me, but I felt like I wanted to get Sara something more modern.”

  Sam nodded. He knew little to nothing about diamond engagement rings. As far as he could tell, this one looked pretty good. “It’s nice.”

  Ben stared at the ring, and his knee bounced. The edge was back.

  Sam closed the box and returned it to his friend. “Are you sure she’s the one?”

  Ben met his gaze. A beat passed as a haunting expression flashed across his friend’s face. He shook his head as if he was trying to ward off a memory. “Yeah, I’m sure. Sara’s the one.”

  “Then today’s a good day,” Sam said, trying to reassure his friend. There was something there—a hesitation, a reluctance, but that could all be nerves. God help him! He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to ask someone to spend the rest of their life with you. He was sure his father had never expected the woman he married would end up losing her marbles, running out on him, and leaving him to raise two sons by himself.

  “I have a favor to ask you,” Ben said. He’d composed himself, and the stoic, regimented man returned.

  “Anything. What do you need? A ride to the airport?”

  “No, we’ve got a car coming. I’d like you to keep an eye on Zoe.”

  “Your sister, Zoe?”

  “Of course, my sister! How many Zoes do you think I’d need you to watch over?”

  Sam waved a hand. “She’s heading off to college in a few weeks. It’s not like she needs a babysitter.”

  “My parents think she’s an angel—an angel with the mouth of a truck driver—but an angel nonetheless. We’ll be gone for several days. I’m not an idiot. I know what kids do after dark in the parks, and I used to go to the Sadie’s Hollow parties, but she’s…”

  “Your little sister,” Sam supplied.

  Ben sat back and rested his hands in his lap. “Yeah, she is, and she thinks, hold on, let me get this right. She called me a boring Rumpleforeskin who wouldn’t know how to have fun if it hit me in the face with a frying pan.”

  Sam clapped his hands and laughed. “With a mouth like that—”

  “She could get herself into a hell of a lot of trouble.” Ben shook his head.

  “Don’t worry. I know she hangs out with Michael quite a bit. I’ll track her down and keep an eye on her.”

  Ben leaned back and clutched the ring box, his gaze fixed on the lake.

  Sam scanned the water’s edge. Children were everywhere—watching the ducklings waddle into the lake, playing tag, and tip
toeing in the cool mud. His gaze was drawn to two little girls, barefoot and practicing cartwheels, and he smiled. He remembered Zoe and Em, no more than seven or eight years old, kicking off their flip-flops and tumbling across the lawn. Zoe’s eyes, wide and sparkling in that shade that wasn’t quite blue and wasn’t quite gray. The color of early morning mist, haunting and beguiling. The tightness in his chest loosened at the thought of those mesmerizing gray-blue eyes.

  “How about that beer?” Ben said, breaking into his thoughts. “I’ve got a couple of hours before I need to meet my parents at their place. We’re going to the airport from there.”

  Sam looked at his friend blankly. Until thirty seconds ago, Zoe Stein had been Ben’s little sister. He and Ben used to build her pillow forts. She was the little girl he’d lifted so she could reach the monkey bars. She was the tiny scrapper who would jump on his back and demand he carry her from their house all the way to this very spot. He ran his hand along the bench’s worn wooden slats.

  “If you’re too messed up over Kara, man, we can do it another time.”

  Sam waved him off. “No, dude, let’s go. I’m not messed up over Kara.” He wasn’t lying. All of a sudden, the troubles with Kara seemed lightyears away. Another face as sweet as summer rain, smiling and laughing with gray-blue eyes, had filled the void.

  3

  “Fuck me!” Sam muttered under his breath.

  He parked his truck on the street a few cars down from Michael’s old Range Rover and glanced across the cracked asphalt at one of the worst dive bars he’d ever seen. Even compared to the third world countries he’d visited, this shithole on the outskirts of Kansas City was pretty bad. It was nearly ten o’clock, and he wanted to punch himself in the face for waiting even this long to track down his cousin and Zoe.

  A loud knock on the passenger side door pulled his attention from the dilapidated building. He leaned over and rolled down the window a few inches.

  A girl—probably no older than Zoe—flicked ash from a cigarette. “You looking for a date, honey?”