Angel Sands Collection Books 1 - 3

by Carrie Elks

  Unexpected tears stung at her eyes. When was the last time anybody had seen her son as something to be proud of? “He is a good kid,” she agreed. “He’s funny, he’s clever, and he is always really polite around people. I’m a very lucky mom.”

  And there was the lump in her throat again. This would be the perfect time to tell him, to finally get the truth out there. “How about you? Do you have any children?” Yeah, so much for letting it all out.

  “No children.”

  She wanted to ask him about a wife or girlfriend, but really, what business was it of hers? And the fact was, she shouldn’t be asking him anything. She should be telling him. Because she was the one who had all the answers.

  Or one answer, at least.

  Come on, Brooke, you can do this. “You must think I’m crazy, beating around the bush like this.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t really thinking about that at all.”

  “The thing is,” she said, taking another deep breath. “I wanted to tell you about Nick’s father.” She blurted it out, and it felt as though the words were hanging in front of her in a huge black arrow, pointing to the biggest loser in town.

  “You did?” Aiden frowned. She couldn’t blame him for being confused. “What about him?”

  “I’m so sorry, it was such a big mistake. Not that Nick is a mistake. I’m really glad I have him, but it was never supposed to happen like this.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he lean back from her?

  “It’s none of my business,” Aiden said. “What you do with your life is up to you.”

  “But it is your business, don’t you see?” She leaned closer. Somehow she needed to make him understand. “You have every right to know the truth. And I should have told your mom years ago. I hate that she’ll never know him. It’s all my fault.”

  “Brooke, you’re babbling. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lifted his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as though the skin there was on fire. “What the hell has Nick got to do with my mom? Or with me, for that matter? I’ve done the math…”

  From the way her heart was banging against her ribcage, Brooke wondered if it was going to escape. She opened her mouth, desperately trying to find the words to make this okay, but they didn’t exist.

  None of them did, because it wasn’t okay.

  She blew out a mouthful of air, but still the ache in her body remained. “It has everything to do with your mom, and everything to do with you. Nick was her grandson, and he’s your nephew.” She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see his response. “Nick is Jamie’s son.”

  7

  Aiden stared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to let the words sink in. His brow dipped, three deep lines forming as he stared at her with those dark blues. Her breath raggedly escaped her lips as she waited for his response. He must hate her right now. God knew she hated herself.

  “You slept with my brother?”

  Her throat tightened. She nodded but no words were forthcoming. Shame wrapped itself around her like a blanket.

  “You can’t be serious.” His voice was ominously calm. It reminded her of the silence before rain began to lash down. So rare here in Southern California, and yet she could picture it in her mind’s eye. She could smell the dampness in the air before the storm unleashed.

  Anger formed on his face, and his head jerked back as he kept his gaze trained on her, as though he was looking for something – anything – to refute the words he was hearing. She felt herself paling beneath his scrutiny. She reached at the collar of her scrubs to pull them away. They felt like they were choking her even though the fabric was loose against her skin.

  “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She reached for him, but he shrugged her off, leaning back, as if he couldn’t bare the thought of her touching him. He pushed himself to standing, walking over to the other side of the room. As if there couldn’t be enough space between them.

  Brooke followed him. Everything inside her wanted to take those words back. They might have been true, but she wished they weren’t. So damn much.

  “Please let me explain,” she said, scrambling on her feet. She reached out for him and he shrank away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Aiden, It isn’t what you think. We—”

  He put his hand in front of him, palm out, fingers splayed. “Stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to know.” He stopped short, blinking wildly. “Are you sure he’s Jamie’s son?”

  She nodded silently.

  “Well at least you kept it in the family.” He laughed, but it sounded more like a growl.

  The sound shot through her. Brooke could feel her body begin to shake. Dizziness took over her.

  “Do your parents know?”

  “No. I never told them.” She laced her fingers, trying to still the way they were shivering. The coffee she’d drunk felt like a whirlpool in the pit of her stomach. Any minute it might come up.

  “And Jamie. Does he know?” Aiden’s lip curled down. He wasn’t looking at her, unable to meet her gaze.

  “I contacted him, but he wasn’t interested.”

  A choking noise came from his throat. “And you didn’t think to contact me?”

  “And tell you what? That I’d been an idiot?”

  “That you’d slept with my brother within a year of telling me you’d love me forever. I’m not stupid, Brooke. I can do the math.”

  A stray lock of hair fell from her ponytail, and she pushed it away from her face. Aiden turned to look out of the window, his broad back flexing beneath his shirt.

  “I’m not a slut,” she whispered. “I’m not.” Even if people thought she was. And she could live with the whispers, with her parents’ condemnation. But she couldn’t live with Aiden’s disgust. It tore at her, making her body feel inside out.

  “I don’t know who you are,” he said, still looking away from her. “I don’t know you at all.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut to try and push out the pain. All these years she’d dreamed about him, longed for his arms. Not once had she imagined how awful it would feel when he hated her.

  “You should go,” he said, his voice thick. “It’s getting late. No doubt your son will be wondering where you are.”

  “His name’s Nick. And he’s not only my son. He’s your nephew. Don’t you want to know more about him?” she asked, her voice imploring. “He’s your family, too.”

  “No.” Aiden shook his head. His dark hair was short, revealing a thin sliver of tan skin between his hairline and collar. She knew how that sliver of flesh felt – the skin soft, the hair coarse. She’d run her hand around it enough times.

  “Aiden…”

  “You need to go.” This time his voice was urgent. As though he was standing on the edge of something, trying not to fall off. His body tensed, his biceps flexing against the thin sleeves of his shirt. For the first time ever, Brooke felt the size difference between them. He’d never hurt her – not physically – but she felt afraid. Because if anything, he’d end up hurting himself.

  “I’m going,” she said breathlessly, stepping back to give them both some space. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  She didn’t bother to reach for a hard hat. Right now she couldn’t give a damn about health and safety. The need to get out of there outweighed everything else. It took a second to close the gap to the door, one more to reach for the handle and curl her fingers around it. As she pushed it down, she turned back to look at him one more time, but his back was still firmly to her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, though her voice was soft enough for him not to hear. Even if he had heard her, he made no response. Yanking at the door, she escaped onto the metal steps leading down to the path, breathing in a mouthful of air as she ran toward the gate.

  But when she got there she realized she didn’t know the code. Her breath was shallow as she reached for the handle anyway, m
aking a futile pulling gesture which failed to move it one inch. The next moment she felt him beside her, his shadow long and dark as it stretched out on the dusty ground. He keyed in the code with six loud beeps.

  The gate clanged as the lock released, and he pushed it open, holding it with his hand for as long as it took her to escape into the parking lot. Before she could turn to look at him she heard it bang close, and she was alone again once more.

  Her car was one of the only ones left in the lot. She headed toward it, grappling in her purse to find her keys. It was only when she was safely inside, the driver’s door closed and her hands resting on the wheel that she finally let herself go.

  She’d done what she needed to do. She’d told him the truth. But right now, all she wanted to do was cry.

  He waited at the gate until he heard her engine start up, and the rumble of her tires as she pulled away from the parking lot. Leaning back on the metal, he closed his eyes for a minute.

  “Damn.” Her words had begun a maelstrom inside him, one he wasn’t sure he was able to contain. He wanted to hit something – anything. But he wouldn’t do that. Not now and not ever.

  He wasn’t that kid any more. Maybe he hadn’t ever been. Yes, he’d been in a few fights in his time, but they usually involved standing up for somebody else. Right now the only person he wanted to fight was himself.

  “Damn!” He shouted it this time, his words disappearing into the dusty air. His muscles contracted, not getting the memo he’d tried to send down from his brain. Because right now punching something felt preferable to thinking about what happened.

  He stalked back to the office, his shoes leaving imprints in the dusty soil. And as soon as he walked into the office he saw her coffee cup resting innocently on the table. How long ago was she holding that? Ten minutes? Rage boiled up inside him as he reached out and swept it to the floor with his balled fist, the papers covering the surface sliding with his violent movement and scattering to the ground.

  It didn’t make him feel any better. In fact he felt worse, because now he was going to have to pick everything up and rearrange it so nobody knew what he’d done.

  Taking another breath into his tight chest, he knelt down and slowly picked each blueprint and delivery receipt up. There were coffee droplets stuck to some of them, and he did his best to wipe them clean, though some stain remained.

  When he was done he stood up and walked over to the window overlooking the site. But he didn’t take in the half-constructed buildings, nor the yellow painted vehicles locked up for the night. All he could see was her, the way she’d been on Saturday night. Her hair long and flowing, her face bright, her arms wrapped around the son she so obviously loved.

  Her son. and Jamie’s.

  He’d said it was none of his business, but his mind begged to differ. Because she’d slept with his brother, and they’d had a child together. She’d said she’d tried to contact Jamie, but did he even know about Nick? Surely he’d have told their mother? The one thing she’d longed for, before she died, was to have a grandchild. And all along they’d been a few hundred miles away from Angel Sands, from Nick.

  There were so many thoughts swirling through his brain, it made his head hurt. He pushed down the little internal voice telling him he should have calmed down and actually listened to what she had to say. Because every word had felt like a knife stabbing at his heart. It hurt like hell.

  In the distance the mountains were darkening, as the sun slowly made her way into the horizon. Any other day he would have thought it was beautiful, but right now all he could see was misery.

  “I’m not a slut.” Wasn’t that what she said? He squeezed his eyes shut to try and force out the image of the hurt on her face. His disgust had obviously been written all over his as she’d told him the truth about her son.

  Deep in his heart he knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t anything other than a girl who’d once taken his heart, and broken him up until he wasn’t sure how to put himself back together again. It had taken years of hard work to forget her. To build himself back up and trust his own judgment. And now he was almost thirty years old. He’d achieved everything he wanted and more. The world was at his feet, and yet it felt like nothing at all.

  He felt like nothing.

  Because the woman he’d once adored had a son who carried his own blood, and at least some of his DNA. And yet he’d never be his.

  That cut him to the bone.

  8

  The shrill blast of her doorbell woke her up. Groggily, Brooke checked the clock beside her bed. Eight A.M. Not even Nick was awake yet. There went sleeping in on Saturday morning.

  Another push of the bell – enough to rouse Nick. “Mom? There’s somebody at the door.” He appeared in the hallway as she walked out of her bedroom. Stifling a yawn, she pulled her robe around her and ruffled her son’s hair. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve no idea.” A glance in the hallway mirror told her all she needed to know. She looked like hell. And she should, too, after the almost sleepless night she’d had. She’d spent most of it tossing and turning. Remembering the way Aiden had looked at her when she’d told him the truth. As though she’d killed something sweet and dear to him.

  Her morning mouth tasted of regret.

  She finished knotting the robe belt around her waist, and reached out to open the door. Whoever it was, they were clearly impatient; even though she was on the other side of the glass, they pressed the bell a third time.

  “Hell—. Oh, Mom, it’s you.”

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?” Without being asked, Lillian brushed past Brooke and walked into the hallway. “Hello, Nick, how are you, my darling?” She took his hand and led him into the kitchen, sighing when she saw the blinds were still pulled. Brooke closed the front door, trying not to let out a groan. It was almost impossible when her mother was around.

  “Brooke, why isn’t the coffee on?” her mother called. “It’s the middle of the morning.”

  “It’s eight o’clock. Practically night time,” Brooke pointed out, joining them in the kitchen. Nick shot her a smile and pulled the blinds without being asked. Thank goodness for him, he really was a good kid. “And unlike you, I don’t have staff to put the coffee on. I do it all by myself.”

  Huffing, her mother opened and closed all the cupboard doors on the right hand wall. “I know how to make coffee, but I can’t find the damn pot. Where did you put it?”

  Brooke leaned down and pulled the canister out from the cupboard beneath the breakfast bar. “I’ll do it. You sit down.” One thing she’d learned from years of living with her mother, once she wanted something, she was almost impossible to divert.

  “I don’t want any. I’ve already had two cups.” She glanced at her watch. “Of course I went to my yoga class first. The coffee’s for you. You need to be bright eyed for today.”

  A sense of unease washed over Brooke. She turned to look at her mother, suspicion in her eyes. “Why?”

  “We’re going to Neiman Marcus to buy you a dress. Remember?”

  No, she didn’t remember, and that’s because they’d never made any such arrangement. Another thing her mom had a habit of doing – having conversations in her mind and holding the real life people accountable. “I told you I already have enough dresses,” Brooke told her, filling the coffee pot up with water. “I don’t need another one.”

  “Don’t be silly, everybody needs more dresses. And I’ve arranged for Nick to join your father on the golf course.”

  Nick’s face lit up. “Grandpa’s taking me golfing?”

  “Yes.” Lillian smiled at her grandson. “And afterward he’s taking you out for lunch. A boys’ day out, isn’t that wonderful?”

  Nick nodded, still smiling.

  “You didn’t ask me if we’re free,” Brooke grumbled.

  Her mom’s face took on a patient look. “I knew you would be. You don’t have a shift at the rescue center, and I know for a fact Ally is working today.
I called Ember to see if she’d like to join us, but she’s busy.” Her mom raised an eyebrow. “And don’t bother trying to tell me about all this college work you have to do. You can do it tomorrow. You deserve a treat, and I want to give you one. I’m your mother.”

  Arguing with her mom was like pulling hard at a Chinese finger trap. The more you struggled, the deeper she pulled you in. Anyway, the thought of getting outside of these four walls held its own appeal. After yesterday’s catastrophe, a change of scenery might be good for her.

  “Okay,” Brooke agreed, still wary. “I’ll come, but you have to promise I can choose my own dress. I don’t wear satin and I don’t wear pink.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “And I get to pay for lunch.”

  Lillian’s lips pursed up. “I don’t want to eat at McDonalds.”

  “That’s rude. I can afford to buy us lunch at somewhere that doesn’t give you a plastic toy with your meal.”

  “You can?”

  “Yes. I’ll even take us somewhere we get to sit down and order. How elegant does that sound?”

  “You’re teasing me.” Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t you?”

  Brooke bit down a smile. “Yes, I’m teasing you. Now if you could do me a favor and get out of here, Nick and I would like to get dressed. We’ll see you at the house in half an hour.”

  “Half an hour? Is that long enough?” Her mom looked pointedly at Brooke’s hair. “Let’s make it an hour. I’ll have Laurence take us in the Mercedes.”

  Brooke put her hand on her mom’s back, and steered her toward the front door. “Yep, whatever you say. I’ll see you in an hour. Now go and get yourself ready, too.”

  “I am rea—. Oh, you’re teasing me again.” Lillian let out another huff. “I do wish you’d stop doing that.”

  Yeah, well sometimes it was her only defence against Lillian Newton. Brooke had an inkling she’d be teasing her mom a lot in the next few hours.