The Lucky One

by Nicholas Sparks

  She took a step closer. "What did he do? Did he threaten you? Scare you?"

  "No! I don't want to talk about this," he said. He turned for the door and reached for the knob. She grabbed his arm to stop him, pushing her face close to his. His muscles tensed before relaxing.

  "He did, didn't he?" she pressed.

  "I can't talk about this." He hesitated. "He . . ."

  Though she'd suspected that both Logan and Nana were right, though her own intuition had prompted her to come here in the first place, she felt something crumple inside when Adam confirmed it.

  "What did he do?"

  "I can't tell you. You should understand that more than anyone. You know how he is. He'll . . ."

  He trailed off, as if suddenly realizing that he'd said too much.

  "He'll what?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing. He's not going to do anything." He stood straighter. "It didn't work out between us. Just leave it at that."

  He opened the door. He paused, drawing a deep breath, and she wondered if he was about to change his mind.

  "Please don't come back," he said.

  Beth sat on her front porch in the swing, staring at the sheets of rain coming down, her clothes still wet. For the most part, Nana left her alone with her thoughts, intruding only to hand her a cup of hot tea and a warm, homemade peanut-butter cookie, but she'd been uncharacteristically silent when she'd done so.

  Beth sipped the tea before realizing she didn't want it. She wasn't cold; despite the relentless downpour, the air was warm and she could see fingers of mist crawling along the property. In the distance, the driveway seemed to vanish into the grayish blur.

  Her ex would be here soon. Keith Clayton. Every now and then, she'd whisper the name, making it sound like a profanity.

  She couldn't believe it. No, scratch that. She could--and did--believe it. Even though she'd wanted to slap Adam for being such a wimp about the situation, she knew she couldn't really blame him. He was a nice guy, but he wasn't, nor had he ever been, the kind of guy who would have been picked first for a pickup basketball or baseball game. There wasn't a chance that he would have stood up to her ex.

  She only wished Adam had revealed how Keith had done it. It was easy to imagine; she had no doubt Adam rented his office from the Clayton family. Almost every business downtown did. Did he play the rent card? Or the "we can make life difficult for you" card? Or did he play the law enforcement card? How far had the man been willing to go?

  Since she'd been sitting outside, she'd tried to figure out exactly how many times it had happened. There weren't that many, maybe five or six, she thought, that had ended in much the same sudden, inexplicable way it had ended with Adam. That was counting Frank, which was what? Seven years ago? Had he been following her, spying on her, that long? The realization made her sick to her stomach.

  And Adam . . .

  What was it about the men she picked that made each of them roll over and play dead the moment Keith intervened? Yes, they were a powerful family, and yes, he was a sheriff, but whatever happened to being a man? Telling him to mind his own business? And why didn't they at least come to her and tell her? Instead, they'd slunk off with their tails between their legs. Between them and Keith, she hadn't had the best of luck with men. How did that saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? Was it her fault for picking such disappointing men?

  Maybe, she admitted. Still, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that Keith had been working behind the scenes to keep things exactly the way he wanted. As if he owned her.

  The thought made her stomach roil again, and she wished that Logan were here. Not because Keith would be here soon to drop off Ben. She didn't need him for that. She wasn't afraid of Keith. She'd never been afraid of him because she knew that deep down he was a bully, and bullies were quick to back down when anyone stood up to them. It was the same reason Nana wasn't afraid of Keith. Drake, too, had sensed that, and she knew he'd always made Keith nervous.

  No, she wanted Logan here because he was good at listening, and she knew he wouldn't interrupt her rant, or try to solve her problem, or get bored if she said, "I can't believe he actually did that," a hundred times. He would let her vent.

  Then again, she thought, the last thing she wanted was to talk the anger out of her system. It was much better to let it simmer. She needed the anger when she confronted Keith--it would keep her sharp--but at the same time, she didn't want to lose control. If she started screaming, Keith would simply deny it all before storming off. What she wanted, however, was for Keith to stay out of her private life--especially now that Logan was in the picture--without making Ben's weekends with his father any worse than they already were.

  No, it was better that Logan wasn't here. Keith might overreact if he saw Logan again, even provoke Logan to action somehow, which could be a problem. If Logan so much as touched her ex, he'd find himself in jail for a long, long time. She had to talk to Logan about that later to make sure he understood how the deck was stacked in Hampton. But for now, she had to handle her little problem.

  In the distance, headlights appeared and the car seemed first to liquefy, then solidify as it approached the house. She saw Nana peek through the curtains, then pull back. Beth rose from the swing and stepped toward the edge of the porch as the passenger door swung open. Ben scrambled out holding his backpack and stepped into a puddle, soaking his shoes. He didn't seem to notice as he trotted toward the steps and up to the porch.

  "Hey, Mom," he said. They hugged before he looked up at her. "Can we have spaghetti for dinner?"

  "Sure, sweetie. How was your weekend?"

  He shrugged. "You know."

  "Yeah," she said. "I know. Why don't you go inside and change? I think Nana baked some cookies. And take off your shoes, okay?"

  "Are you coming?"

  "In a few minutes. I want to talk to your dad first."

  "Why?"

  "Don't worry. It's not about you."

  He tried to read her expression, and she put her hand on his shoulder. "Go on. Nana's waiting."

  Ben went inside as Keith rolled down his window a couple of inches. "We had a great time this weekend! Don't let him tell you any different."

  His tone was full of an airy confidence. Probably, she thought, because Logan wasn't around.

  She took another step forward. "Do you have a minute?"

  He stared at her through the crack before he slipped the car into park and shut off the engine. He pushed open the door, stepped out, and ran toward the steps. Once on the porch, he shook his head, sending a few drops of water flying before grinning at her. He probably thought he looked sexy.

  "What's up?" he asked. "Like I said, Ben and I had a great time this weekend."

  "Did you make him clean your kitchen again?"

  The grin faded. "What do you want, Beth?"

  "Don't get sore. I just asked a question."

  He continued to stare at her, trying to read her. "I don't tell you what to do with Ben when he's with you, and I expect the same courtesy. Now what did you want to talk about?"

  "A few things, actually." Despite the disgust she felt, she forced a smile and motioned to the porch swing. "Would you like to sit down?"

  He seemed surprised. "Sure," he said. "But I can't stay long. I've got plans this evening."

  Of course you do, she thought. Either that, or you want me to think that you do. The kind of reminder that had been typical since their divorce.

  They took a seat on the swing. After sitting, he jiggled it back and forth before leaning back and spreading his arms. "This is nice. Did you do this?"

  She tried to keep as much distance between them on the swing as she could. "Logan put it up."

  "Logan?"

  "Logan Thibault. He works for Nana at the kennel now. Remember? You met him."

  He scratched his chin. "The guy that was here the other night?"

  As if you don't know. "Yes, that's him."

  "And he's okay w
ith cleaning cages and scooping up crap?" he asked.

  She ignored the obvious dig. "Uh-huh."

  He exhaled as he shook his head. "Better him than me." He turned toward her with a shrug. "So what's up?"

  She considered her words carefully. "This is hard for me to say . . ." She trailed off, knowing it would make him more interested.

  "What is it?"

  She sat up straighter. "I was talking to one of my friends the other day, and she said something that just didn't sit right with me."

  "What did she say?" Keith leaned toward her, alert.

  "Well, before I tell you, I just want to say that it was one of those rumor mill things. A friend of a friend of a friend heard something, and it eventually got passed on to me. It's about you."

  His expression was curious. "You have my attention."

  "What she said was . . ." She hesitated. "She said that in the past, you've followed me on my dates. And that you told some of them that you didn't want them to date me."

  She made a point not to look directly at him, but from the corner of her eye, she saw his expression freeze. Not only shocked. Guilty. She pressed her lips together to keep from blowing up.

  His face relaxed. "I can't believe it." He drummed his fingers on his leg. "Who told you that?"

  "It's not important." She waved off the comment. "You don't know her."

  "I'm curious," he pressed.

  "It's not important," she said again. "It's not true, is it?"

  "Of course not. How could you even think something like that?"

  Liar! she screamed inside, willing herself not to say anything. In the silence, he shook his head.

  "Sounds to me like you need to start picking better friends. And to be honest, I'm a little hurt that we're even having this conversation."

  She forced herself to smile. "I told her it wasn't true."

  "But you wanted to make sure by asking me in person."

  She heard a tinge of anger in his voice and reminded herself to be careful.

  "You were coming over," she said, trying to sound casual. "And besides, we've known each other long enough that we can talk like adults." She looked at him wide-eyed, the victim of an innocent mistake. "Did it bother you that I asked?"

  "No, but still, to even think it . . ." Keith threw up his hands.

  "I didn't. But I wanted to tell you because I figured you might want to know what other people might be saying behind your back. I don't like them talking about Ben's father that way, and I said that to her."

  Her words had the effect she wanted: He puffed up with self-righteous pride.

  "Thanks for defending me."

  "Nothing to defend. You know how gossip is. It's the toxic waste of small towns." She shook her head. "So how's everything else? Work going well?"

  "Same as always. How's your class this year?"

  "It's a pretty good group of kids. So far, anyway."

  "Good," he said. He motioned toward the yard. "Some storm, huh? I could barely see the road."

  "I was thinking the same thing when you drove up. It's crazy. It was gorgeous at the beach yesterday."

  "You were at the beach?"

  She nodded. "Logan and I went. We've been seeing each other for a while now."

  "Huh," he said. "Sounds like it's getting serious."

  She offered a sidelong glance. "Don't tell me that woman was right about you."

  "No, of course not."

  She worked up a playful smile. "I know. I was just teasing. And no, we're not serious yet, but he's a great guy."

  He brought his hands together. "How does Nana feel about that?"

  "Why does that matter?"

  He shifted in his seat. "I'm just saying that situations like this can be complicated."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He works here. And you know how the courts are these days. You're opening yourself up to a major sexual harassment lawsuit."

  "He wouldn't do that--"

  Keith spoke with patience, as if lecturing someone much younger. "Trust me. That's what everyone says. But think about it. He has no ties to the community, and if he's working for Nana, I doubt he has much money. No offense. But remember, your family owns a lot of land." He shrugged. "I'm just saying that if I were you, I'd be very careful."

  He sounded persuasive and, despite her knowledge to the contrary, caring. A friend who was generally concerned for her well-being. The man should be an actor, she thought.

  "Nana owns the land and the house. Not me."

  "You know how lawyers can be."

  I know exactly, she thought. I remember what your lawyer did at the custody hearing. "I don't think it'll be a problem. But I'll talk to Nana about it," Beth conceded.

  "That's probably a good idea." He sounded smug.

  "I'm just glad I was right about you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know--not having a problem with me dating someone like Logan. Aside from the sexual harassment concern. I really like him."

  He uncrossed his legs. "I wouldn't say I have no problem with it."

  "But you just said--"

  "I said I don't care who you date, and I don't. But I do care who comes into my son's life because I care about my son."

  "As you should. But what does that have to do with anything?" Beth protested.

  "Think about it, Beth . . . you don't see the things that I have to see. In your work, I mean. But I see terrible things all the time, so of course I'd be concerned about anyone who spends a lot of time with Ben. I'd want to know if he was violent or if he was some sort of pervert--"

  "He's not," Beth interrupted. She felt her color rising despite herself. "We ran a background check on him."

  "They can be faked. It's not hard to come up with a new identity. How do you even know his real name's Logan? It's not like you can ask anyone around here. Have you talked to anyone from his past? Or his family?"

  "No . . ."

  "There you go. I'm just telling you to be careful." He shrugged. "And I'm not saying that just because of Ben. It's for you, too. There are some bad people in the world, and the reason they're not in jail is because they've learned how to hide it."

  "You make it sound like he's some sort of criminal!"

  "I'm not trying to. He could be the nicest, most responsible guy in the world. I'm just saying that you don't know who he really is. And until you do, it's better to be safe than sorry. You read the papers and watch the news. I'm not telling you something you don't already know. I just don't want anything to happen to Ben. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

  Beth opened her mouth to say something, but for the first time since sitting down with her ex, she could think of nothing to say.

  21

  Clayton

  Clayton sat behind the wheel of the car, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

  He'd had to do some quick thinking, but it went far better than he'd thought it would, especially considering the way the conversation had begun. Someone had ratted him out, and as he drove, he tried to figure out who it might have been. Generally, there was no such thing as a secret in small towns, but this one was as close as you could get. The only ones who knew were the few men he'd had the little talk with and, of course, himself.

  He figured it could have been one of them, but somehow he doubted it. They were worms, each and every one of them, and each and every one of them had moved on. There was no reason for them to have said anything. Even Adam the dork had found a new girlfriend, which made it unlikely he'd start talking now either.

  Then again, it might simply have been a rumor. It was possible that someone had suspicions about what he'd been up to, just by connecting the dots. Beautiful woman getting dumped over and over for no apparent reason . . . and, thinking back, he might have mentioned something to Moore or even Tony about Beth that someone might have overheard--but he'd never been dumb or drunk enough to be specific. He knew the problems that could cause with his dad, especially since usually he
'd had to rely on law enforcement threats. But someone had said something to Beth.

  He didn't put much stock in the fact that Beth had said a female friend had told her. She could easily have changed that little detail to throw him off. It could have been a man or a woman; what he was more certain about was the fact that she'd learned the detail recently. Knowing her as he did, he knew there wasn't a chance she could have kept something like that bottled up for long.

  That's where things got confusing. He'd picked up Ben on Saturday morning; she'd said nothing then. By her own admission, she'd been at the beach on Saturday with Thigh-bolt. On Sunday, he'd seen her in church, but she was home by late afternoon.

  So who had told her? And when?

  It could have been Nana, he thought. The woman had always been a thorn in his side. Gramps's, too. For the last four or five years, he'd been trying to get Nana to sell the land so he could develop it. Not only did it have a beautiful riverfront, but the creeks were valuable, too. People who moved down from the North loved waterfront property. Gramps generally took her rejections in stride; for whatever reason, he liked Nana. Probably because they went to the same church, something that didn't seem to matter when it came to Nana's opinion of her former son-in-law, who went to the same church as well.

  Still, this seemed like the kind of trouble Thigh-bolt would start. But how on earth would he know? They'd seen each other only twice, and there wasn't a chance that Thigh-bolt could have deduced the truth from those two meetings. But what about the breakin? Clayton thought about it before rejecting his idea. He'd been in and out in twenty minutes, and he hadn't even had to jimmy the lock, since the guy hadn't bothered to lock the front door. And nothing had been missing, so why would Thigh-bolt even have suspected someone had been inside in the first place? And even if he'd guessed that someone had been in the house, why would he draw the connection to Clayton?

  He couldn't answer those questions to his satisfaction, but the theory that Thigh-bolt had had something to do with this little wrinkle seemed to fit. He'd had nothing but problems since Thigh-bolt had arrived. So he figured Thigh-bolt was high on his list of folks who probably should have minded their own business. Which gave him one more reason to finally fix the guy.

  He wasn't going to get too caught up with that now, though. He was still feeling pretty good about how he'd salvaged the conversation with Beth. It could have been a fiasco. The last thing on earth he'd expected when she'd called him over was for her to ask him about his involvement in her previous relationships. But he'd handled it well. Not only was he able to muster a plausible denial, but he'd also made her think twice about Thigh-bolt. He could tell by her expression that he'd brought up a number of issues she hadn't considered about Thigh-bolt . . . and best of all, he'd convinced her that it was all in Ben's best interest. Who knows? Maybe she'd end up dumping him, and Thigh-bolt would leave town. Wouldn't that be something? Yet another of Beth's relationship problems would be solved, and Thigh-bolt would be out of the picture.