by Lex Martin
Leaning down, I gently wipe her hair out of her face. It leaves streaks of blood. “Joey. Baby. Talk to me.”
I don’t notice the gun until it’s right in my face.
Samantha is crying, her hands shaking as she waves it at me. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can get away! Just the two of us!”
“The two of us?” What the fuck is she talking about?
“Zach’s like a son to Carmen, and I bet she wouldn’t mind keeping him.”
She says this so matter-of-factly, it’s like we’re talking about what kind of toppings she wants on her pizza.
I stare down the barrel. “Samantha, the only way I’m going anywhere with you is if you shoot me and drag my dead body along. Do you hear me?” My voice is a low growl, but this is what happens when you eviscerate me. The thought of losing Jo now, after everything we’ve been through, sends me right to the fucking edge.
I scramble closer to Joey and feel for a pulse. From this angle, I can’t tell if she’s breathing. “Come on, baby. Come on.”
There. It’s faint, but her heart is beating. I place my hand over her chest and nearly collapse in relief when it rises. Thank God.
As carefully as I can, I try to pull the rest of her out of the closet so I can see where the blood is coming from and try to stop it.
Samantha releases the safety and wails, “Don’t be like this, Logan. Let’s go somewhere and talk. You don’t need this bitch. She only brings you down. I tried to get rid of her for you last year. I tried so hard, and it worked and she went to Florida, but then she had to come back for this stupid wedding. But I have a place we can put her, and no one will ever know.”
I’m about to punch this psycho in the fucking face when someone comes flying in from the living room and tackles her down to the ground.
Silas.
I have no idea what he’s doing here, and I don’t have time to ask.
Because the gun goes off.
42
Joey
It flickers, in and out, like a clip at the end of a movie reel.
The lights.
Red and blue.
Colors flashing.
So much flashing.
I’m not sure if it’s from actual lights or the nuclear explosion happening in my brain.
I groan and crack open my eyes only to slam them shut again when the brightness of the room stabs me in the cranium.
“She’s awake. Thank God. Logan, honey…” I recognize the voice. Bev. It’s such a comfort to me, I let go and fade back into the darkness. I’m so tired.
At some point, Logan’s whisper in my ear drags me back. He sounds so sad. So desperate. I want to tell him I’m fine and not to worry, but I can’t move my lips.
I’m supposed to be mad at him. Vaguely, I remember he broke my heart.
I’ve always loved Logan. Does he know this? I get the distinct feeling I shouldn’t. Like he’s done something so terrible, I’m supposed to hold it against him. But I don’t want to be upset with him. I love him too much. It’ll shatter me if what he did was really bad.
Did he cheat on me? Like Daddy thought Mama cheated on him? That would be devastating.
Logan’s apologizing. Telling me not to cry. Wiping gently under my eyes.
But I must be dreaming because I hear Silas too, and I know Silas would never be anywhere near Logan. I let that thought take over and allow myself to fade. I could sleep forever and never wake up, and that would be fine with me.
“Baby, I love you so fucking much.” Logan’s voice is rough, raw. He sounds gutted.
When my lashes flutter open, I see him hunched over me, holding my hand, looking like someone killed his best friend.
“Am I dying?” I croak, my throat so dry. Because why am I in the hospital?
His head jerks, and he laughs when he sees me awake. He wipes his eyes. “Holy shit, Bitsy. You scared me. I was so afraid I was gonna lose you.”
He’s kissing me, and nurses rush in who poke and prod me. A doctor ushers everyone out so he can examine me more carefully. He says something about a lot of blood loss and a concussion and low blood pressure. How I’m lucky to be alive. About how they’ll have to wake me every so often so I don’t die in my sleep. That sounds ominous, but I’m too tired to care about the details. Everything feels fuzzy, like there’s a layer of gauze over my thoughts. It’s hard to speak, hard to think, exhausting to move.
I sleep until dawn becomes day. At least I think it’s day. Nurses nudge me every so often, and I grunt at them until they leave me be.
It’s not until I’m alone, when the room is still and so quiet I can hear the drip of the faucet in the bathroom, that I remember what happened.
My eyes fly open on a gasp.
An alarm sounds by my head. Wincing, I reach up to rub my temple, but there’s gauze, and the pressure is intense from the light touch of my palm.
“Sweetie, calm down.” A nurse jogs in and pushes some buttons that shut off that ungodly sound. She listens to my heart and lungs. Takes my blood pressure and temperature.
Logan runs in with Bev on his heels.
It’s the expression on Logan’s face that does me in.
His bloodshot eyes sport dark circles. He looks devastated. Like he cares about me. Like I mean something to him, and he’s worried I got hurt.
But I can’t trust anything because he’s a liar.
Seeing him here, knowing how wrong I’ve been about him, hurts worse than whatever injury landed me in this room.
When I try to talk, I can only cough.
The machines start beeping again.
Finally, I can say the words. “Why did you lie?” I swallow past the sandpaper in my throat. “How could you not tell me?” For the first time in my life, I’m too angry, too hurt, to cry. He had a kid with another woman, seven years ago, and never bothered to tell me. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”
I can’t even roll away because there are cords and IVs hanging off my arm.
“Joey, I swear I—”
“Leave me alone!”
“Sir, I need you to leave.” The nurse tries to usher him out, bless her. “We don’t want to upset her right now…”
Their voices fade, and I cocoon myself under blankets.
That nice nurse returns, and I make sure she understands I don’t want any visitors. No one. Not a single soul. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this alone before, but I have a feeling I need to get used to it.
When I wake again, it’s dark outside.
I want to check the bus schedule and find out how much it’ll cost to go back to Florida, but in the back of my mind, I know there’s a reason why I can’t go yet.
There’s something I’m supposed to do or somewhere I’m supposed to be…
Holy shit, the wedding.
With trembling hands, I punch the nurse’s button. A different nurse pokes her head in.
“What day is it?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. What do you need, hun?”
“What. Day. Is. It?”
She smiles. “Sunday. Are you hungry? I’m supposed to get you to eat more during my shift. We can get that catheter out tonight, and…”
I don’t hear anything else she says.
I missed the wedding.
There really isn’t anything to keep me here.
Finally, those tears fall. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
Logan is with another woman. Silas doesn’t give a shit about me. Tori and Ethan got married. I mean, I wouldn’t expect them to put their lives on hold for me, but I’m so upset I missed their wedding, the blow is crushing when added to everything else.
After a minute, the nurse pats my hand. “Concussions have a tendency to make you emotional. I’ve seen grown men bawl like babies when they’ve gotten a good goose egg, so I just want to let you know this is okay. Let it out, hun.”
Oh, I will.
Before the nurse walks out, she adds, “By the way, the police are going to need to question
you about what happened. You weren’t in any condition to talk before, but they’ll be stopping by tomorrow to get your statement.”
She walks out before I can process what that means.
Because honestly, I’m not sure what happened.
43
Joey
I’m looking for my clothes when the yelling starts.
Gingerly, I walk toward the door and listen. The nurse got me out of bed to get me mobile last night, but I was too exhausted to do more than go to the bathroom and crawl back into bed. Since I’m being released soon, though, I’m trying to do more for myself.
“This is bullshit!” Logan’s voice booms from the hallway. “Joey’s my fucking girlfriend.”
I push open the door, shocked to find two security guards looking like they’re about to toss Logan out of the hospital. “It’s okay. Let him in.”
Now that I’m feeling better, I need answers.
He rushes into my room so quickly, I have to take a step back. Then his hands are cradling my face, and I wince.
“Shit. Did I hurt you?” He studies the stitches that run along my hairline where the psycho apparently laid me out with a baseball bat. At least, that’s what one of the nurses told me.
I shrug out of his hold and sit on the edge of the bed, aware that I probably look like crap since I’m sporting neon-blue hospital socks, a gown with questionable stains, and greasy hair, but I can’t conjure the effort it takes to care. The only thing I need right now is the truth.
Absentmindedly, I pick at the Band-Aid on the back of my hand where I had an IV.
“So tell me. Get everything off your chest.” My voice sounds hollow.
Logan collapses in the chair next to my bed and drops his head into his hands. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to talk to you about this.”
“Well, since everyone already knows your dirty secret, I’m not about to give you points for doing it now.”
He shakes his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “Please don’t call Zach that. This isn’t his fault.”
My heart pangs in my chest. Even now, even after everything, it still hurts to see Logan in pain. “I wasn’t talking about the boy, though, yes, he is shocking. I meant Samantha. I meant you living this whole other life and lying about it.”
“There’s really no excuse,” he admits before turning to look me in the eye. “I thought I was protecting my mom. She’s been through so much, and—”
I cut him off because I’m confused, and he’s starting to piss me off more. “What does Beverly have to do with anything? Please tell me you’re not blaming the way you hid your child on your mother.” I’m about to go on a rant about having character—maybe after I knee him in the balls—but the expression on his face stops me.
“My what?”
That gets him a hard eye roll. “Your. Child. The one you had with Samantha. Zachary. The kid you’ve been hiding for seven fucking years.” In the span of a heartbeat, my temper is volcanic. Gone is the canyon of loneliness and despair. Now I want to scorch the earth.
Logan has the audacity to gape at me like this is shocking news, and then he’s out of his seat and trying to grab my hand. “Fuck, baby. No—”
“Don’t call me baby. And don’t touch me.”
I go to move off the bed, but my legs are weak, and I start to stumble. Logan’s arms come around me, and I try to push him off, but he’s too strong, and my limbs feel like saplings.
His voice is low in my ear. “Calm down. Don’t hurt yourself over this. Zach’s not my son.”
He kisses my temple, the one that didn’t get bashed in, and I close my eyes before I cry. I’m so frustrated and upset, and I hate myself for being in love with Logan when he’s been this deceitful. I wish it didn’t feel so good to be in his arms. I want to scream and break shit and demand that life stop trying to screw me.
“Stop lying!” I choke out. “Tell me the truth for once!”
He doesn’t let me go. “Listen to me.” He shifts me in his arms until we’re practically nose to nose. “Zach is not my child.” I’m about to scream in his face that he’s a filthy fucking liar, when he shocks the hell out of me. “Zach is my brother.”
“He’s your… Wait. What?”
“My brother.” A long sigh leaves his lips. “Well, my half-brother.” He gently kisses my forehead, and I’m too shocked to protest. “Maybe we should sit down for this.”
44
Logan
Seeing Joey with stitches on her forehead, bruises along her eyes, and as thin as can be, shakes me to the core.
This is the worst time to unload the whole story on her, but she’s right. I can’t stuff this down anymore. Deep down, I realize she’s stronger than I’m giving her credit for. I’m sick to my stomach thinking she believed Zach was mine and I kept this from her.
We sit on two hard chairs next to the bed, and I shift in my seat to get the pressure off my left thigh, which is throbbing. “The short version of this is my father had an affair with Samantha about eight years ago. She got pregnant just before he died.”
Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “I didn’t find out about Zach until the summer before last. Samantha came by, wanting child support, talking about suing my father’s estate. We were already dealing with Ethan and Allison’s divorce. Shit was ugly between them, and I was scared as hell we were gonna have to sell the farm to pay out Allison. I figured Samantha entering the picture at that point would make it a foregone conclusion, and we’d lose the ranch. So I talked her into letting me pay the child support myself without going to court.”
Joey makes a face. “How old is Samantha? She must’ve been young when she hooked up with your father. And what the hell? He really cheated on Bev?”
“Samantha is three years older than me, so yeah, she was young at the time.”
A nurse pops her head in, checks something on a chart, and tells Joey not to overdo it out of bed. We wait until she leaves to continue.
I clear my throat. “I was pissed at my father for so many fucking things, but that wasn’t Zach’s fault. The kid should get a stake in the farm at some point, but he was five at the time, and I figured that could wait. And until Samantha showed up on our doorstep with a little clone of me, I’d never given credence to those rumors that my father had cheated on my mom before.”
Her eyes widen. “You heard those?”
“I did.”
After a long moment, she sighs. “Silas always thought he cheated with our mother, that their relationship was the reason our dad took off.”
I wince, hating the toll my father and his selfishness took on Joey’s family. “I’m so sorry, Bitsy, but that’s probably true.”
“I just went off on Silas about this the other day. I saw him the afternoon Samantha came over.” Her eyes meet mine briefly, and I nod, encouraging her to continue. “I thought he was crazy for thinking your dad had bedded our mama. I mean, she used to quote scripture to me. How does someone like that have an affair with a married man?”
Bowing my head, I run my hands over my jeans and try to think back to that time. “Maybe your mom needed some help or attention. Your father wasn’t around, and my dad, the charmer himself, took it upon himself to comfort her?”
“Ugh. That does sound plausible. What dicks. All of them.”
I hate that this whole situation disparages her mother. “Did your mama know she was sick by then?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “But if she did, that would explain why she wanted someone in her life other than Bill Grayson, the town drunk.”
“I know it doesn’t make it any easier to accept, and we’ll probably never understand, but don’t let any of this tarnish the good memories you had of her.”
She sniffles, and I look away, knowing this is rough on her. I want to grab her hand, I want to hold her tight, but I’m not sure we’re there yet.
After a minute, she coughs. “How’s Beverly doing
? Is she heartbroken?”
“She’s hanging in there. She didn’t outright say she knew my dad had stepped out on her, but I’m guessing a part of her sensed it.”
My mother didn’t tell me she’s heartbroken, but I’m pretty sure she is.
A long silence stretches out between me and Joey, and I shift uncomfortably.
Finally, she groans. “I’m still having a hard time understanding why you didn’t say something about this. Why keep it to yourself for so long? For two years? Why did you hide this from everyone?”
I rub the scruff on my chin. “When Tori came to live with us to nanny for my brother, my mother left for Chicago to visit family for a few weeks. Remember?”
“Yeah,” she says slowly.
“She didn’t go to Chicago. She went to San Antonio to have a procedure. My mom had dangerously high blood pressure and an arterial blockage, and she needed a stent. Bottom line is she didn’t want anyone to know. She thought Ethan was stressed out with the divorce and had enough on his plate.” My mom and I have had some long talks this week, and she knows I need to tell Joey the whole story. I have her full permission to give Jo the details of my mother’s condition.
“So… you didn’t tell anyone about Zach because of Bev’s health.”
Nodding, I sigh. “The doctors told me they didn’t want her in any stressful situations. That she needed to rest. And maybe I overreacted, but finding my father face down in his own vomit after he had a massive heart attack shook me up pretty fucking bad. So there was no way I was gonna let a shitty situation that wasn’t even my mother’s fault affect her health. But yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”
When she doesn’t say anything, frustration gets the best of me. “Put yourself in my shoes, Jo. Would you have wanted to deliver the bad news to my mom? So yes, I procrastinated. I’m not proud of that, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that her husband of almost thirty years couldn’t keep it in his goddamn pants.” I scrub my face with my palm. “Anyway, I felt like I owed it to my mother to tell her first before I talked to Ethan or anyone else about it.”
