by Lane Hart
“I’ve missed you,” I tell her as I sling an arm around her hip and yank her to me so that we're lying on our sides, skin to skin from our lips to our toes.
“I missed you too,” she says between kisses that quickly heat up to the point of no longer allowing any verbal conversation to take place.
From that point on, neither of us are capable of anything more than moans, whimpers, curses, and the occasional “I love you” until the sun rises.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Whitney
A few weeks later…
My phone buzzes in my purse while Mackenzie and I are in the grocery store. The girl who never likes to leave the house was actually in a hurry to drag me with her on this important errand.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” I tell her when I see it’s Abby calling. Pointing at the shelf, I say, “Go with that box that has three of them in it.”
“Okay,” she agrees nervously while chewing on her bottom lip.
“Hello?” I answer, heading to the front of the store in case the cell phone reception is shitty.
“Hey, Whit. Did I catch you at a bad time?” my sister asks, her serious tone of voice telling me this isn’t just a friendly call to catch up.
“Yeah, sort of, but what’s up?” I ask.
“Vivian was arrested today. What she did is all over the news, so I’m glad you’re not here having to deal with it.”
“Wow,” I say in surprise.
Last week while Alex was at work, I called the Cary Police Department and told them everything. They then asked me to email them a statement with a copy of my driver’s license to prove my identity. Apparently, they took everything I told them seriously.
“Dad said they offered her a plea for three years instead of six if she would confess and turn over the information she had on the two men, and she did it.”
“They’re giving her three years in prison?” I repeat.
“Yeah. Sort of seems light to me for what she did, but I know the police want to catch those men.”
“I don’t know what to think…or say,” I admit sadly when I stop outside to rest my back against the brick building.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself, Whit. These were her bad choices. You could’ve been killed or sold into a sex ring. Horrible things could’ve happened if those guys hadn’t got the money.”
“I know,” I reply. “It’s all just so hard to believe.”
“Yeah, it is. But don’t worry about this shit. You just focus on the good things you’ve got going on up there with Alex.”
“I will. I just worry about dad…”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, take him dinner and make sure he’s not working too hard. He’ll be okay.”
“Maybe I should come home,” I declare.
“No. We’re doing fine. You do what’s best for you!”
“We’ll see,” I tell her since I’m not convinced that I shouldn’t go back, just through the holidays. Alex could even come with me if he can get off work for a few days.
“I’ve got to go, so let’s talk later, okay?” Abby asks.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Am I a horrible daughter for not wanting to see her or talk to her again?” I ask quickly before she hangs up.
“If you are, then I am too. I never want to have anything to do with that woman again,” she replies. “You don’t have to. No one will make you, and honestly, we’re better off without her.”
“True,” I agree. “All right, I’ll talk to you later. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, Whit,” Abby says before ending the call.
…
Alex
“Yes, sir, by saving your companies’ files to our cloud, you never have to worry about losing documents when your employees’ computers crash or if someone gets a virus,” I tell the customer on the phone who I’m trying to snag a contract with. I think I’m making progress when my father walks into my small, windowless office and shuts the door.
The whole working gig hasn’t been so bad. The hours are long, the day-to-day operations are boring as fuck, but most of all I hate having to leave Whitney in my bed each morning. While I’m gone, she’s been spending the days with my sister, so I’m not sure if I should be happy or scared by their newfound friendship.
“Can you send me some figures so I can get an idea of cost?” Jack, the owner of the small law firm I have on the phone, asks.
“Sure,” I say while shuffling around the stack of papers on my desk until I find the right one. “I have your email address right here in front of me, so I’ll send over several estimates based on various storage sizes in just a few minutes,” I tell him.
“Great, thanks,” he says before hanging up.
“What’s up?” I ask my dad as I place the receiver into the cradle. This is only the second time he’s been down to my office since I started working. The only other time was my first day, probably just to make sure I actually showed up.
“I just got off the phone with the Cary Police Department,” he starts before taking a seat in one of the two small chairs on the opposite side of my desk.
“Oh yeah? What did they want?” I ask in confusion.
“Whitney’s mother’s been arrested,” he says solemnly.
“Shit,” I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I bet she doesn’t know, and I hate to have to be the one to tell her.”
“Apparently, Whitney already knows,” my dad says. “She’s the one who turned her in.”
“She did?” Whitney had been trying to decide what to do, but I didn’t know she had made a decision. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed the money because Whitney was kidnapped?” Dad asks, echoing my thoughts.
Shrugging, I tell him, “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters,” he says.
“Well, now you know.”
“You loved her enough to give up everything?”
“It was nothing,” I reply. “I just wanted to get Whitney back and to make sure she was safe, whatever the cost.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted for you when I sent you out on your own,” he says, leaning forward in his seat. “I wanted you to find someone you cared about more than any amount of money.”
“Lesson learned,” I mutter. “Now, I really need to get this email done,” I tell him, swiveling my chair toward the computer screen and hoping that’s the end of our little heart to heart.
“She confessed,” he says, staying seated. “Vivian Merchant told the police everything, gave them account numbers and the names of the men involved.”
“Good for her, I guess,” I say as I open up my email.
“Seven of the ten million is being wired back to me,” Dad says as he finally stands up to leave. “They’re working on finding the two men to get back the rest and are confident they’ll reclaim most of it.”
“Well, that’s great. I know you’ll be glad to get your money back.”
“Yeah, I am, because it means you’ll still get your trust,” he says.
“Huh?” I mutter.
“Do you no longer want it?” he asks.
Do I no longer want my trust fund that will get me out of this boring, shitty job and help me start a life with Whitney?
“Yes, of course, I want it,” I tell him. “But I thought…”
“I know you hate this place and would rather be punching something. So even though you still have a few more months to your birthday, get out of here and go to California.”
“Seriously?” I ask, fucking amazed and certain I’m dreaming.
How is it possible that life can go from down in the dumps to everything I wanted in a matter of minutes? Not that I don’t feel bad about Whitney’s mom, because I do hate that she made such a stupid decision. Now it’s time for her to deal with the consequences, which will be equally hard on Whitney and her family.
“I’ve already talked to Coach Briggs, and they still want you for t
he show,” my Dad tells me.
“Holy shit,” I mutter. “I can’t believe it. You’re gonna let me just quit and go?”
“Yes,” he replies. “The only thing is, it may be too late for me to get back your cars.”
“No, that’s fine,” I insist. “I don’t need them, and the money they’ll bring in could help a lot of kids."
“That’s good of you, son,” he says.
“Thank you, Dad,” I tell him. “I know I’ve been a disappointment, but I do want more in my life, starting with Whitney.”
“I know. I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry,” he says. “What you did…I’m proud of you. Your mother would be too.”
“Thanks. That means a lot,” I reply, swallowing around the sudden knot in my throat.
With a nod, he reaches for the doorknob to open it.
“Hey, Dad. One more thing,” I say to catch him.
“What’s that, son?” he asks.
“I think I’m ready to get mom’s ring sized, if the offer still stands.”
With a sad smile, he says, “It’s yours.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Whitney
“How long has it been?” Mackenzie asks while pacing in her bedroom and chewing on her thumbnail.
“One minute,” I tell her as I watch the seconds tick by on my phone’s stopwatch app. Honestly, while I hate that she’s in this situation, I’m grateful for the distraction from the news I got from home earlier today.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” she mumbles to herself. “Now?”
“A minute ten seconds. Eleven seconds. Twelve seconds…” I count.
“I have to look!” she exclaims, bolting toward her en suite bathroom. I jump off the bed and grab her arm to stop her and haul her back.
“Not yet! You still have another minute and some change.”
“I have to know!” she declares. “What if I am? What am I gonna do?”
“Either way it will be fine, Mackenzie,” I assure her. “It’s not like you don’t have room for a nursery in this mansion. I mean, there’s enough space in here for a crib and changing table,” I say as I glance around her bedroom.
“You’re not exactly helping,” she remarks.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ve been in your shoes and I know it’s scary, but once you have time to adjust to the idea of having a baby, it’s not so bad.”
“So you weren’t pregnant?” she asks, wide eyes hopeful.
“No, I wasn’t,” I say, leading her to the bed to sit and distract her for another minute. “I was late, but all the tests were negative. So, I went to the doctor, and they did all this blood work to find out why…”
“What was it?” she asks.
“I had premature ovarian failure. They told me I wasn’t pregnant and never would be,” I explain sadly.
“Aww, I’m sorry, Whit,” Mackenzie says, wrapping her arms around me.
“No, no, no, today is about your problem, not mine,” I tell her as I hug her back. “Just a guess, but would Haven be the father?” I ask softly.
“Yes, but you can’t tell anyone,” she whispers. “Daddy would fire him. Rowe would blacklist him for any future jobs; and Haven’s not the type of man to let me pay his way, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I tell her.
The high-pitched beeping from my phone lying next to me tells us time is up.
“Oh shit,” Mackenzie gasps and tenses up. “Will you look? Now I’m not sure if I can.”
“Of course,” I tell her, letting her go so that I can get to my feet and head for the bathroom. Laid out in the middle of the counter are three pregnancy tests to make sure there are no doubts. Leaning over them, I see the same results on all of them.
Picking one up by the pink plastic handle, I take it into the bedroom to show Mackenzie. She’s now facedown on the bed; her face buried in the bedding. “Tell me,” she says, her voice muffled.
“You’re not pregnant,” I announce.
She instantly pops up to look at me for confirmation. I hold up the stick for her to see. “Only one line, so they’re negative.”
“I’m not knocked up,” she says, fanning her face with both hands. “Everything’s okay. I’m not pregnant. No one will ever know…”
I’m not even surprised when I hear her sniffles. Looking up at me with watery green eyes, she asks, “So why am I crying?”
“Aww, sweetie, it’s okay,” I tell her, tossing the test on the bedside table to comfort her. “I know how you feel. You wanted it to be negative until it was negative, right?”
“Y-yes,” she sobs on my shoulder. “What the fuck is up with that?”
“I think it’s natural, to get hit with all the emotions of what will never be once the panic beings to clear,” I explain. “But that just goes to show that you would’ve been okay if you were, right?”
“This is all…his fault,” she tells me, clutching my shirt as she cries. “Okay…so a tad mine, too, but I’m gonna blame him.”
“Go right ahead,” I tell her.
“Please don’t tell Alex,” she says when she pulls away and starts mopping up her face with her hands. “I know that’s a shitty thing to ask you to keep from him, but please don’t.”
“I won’t,” I assure her.
It’s not like I see my boyfriend very often with the hours he’s working and then having to take the bus to and from the office, which I don’t really understand. The Stiles have a garage full of cars, including my own, which he refuses to take in case I need it during the day. I get the impression that he’s not allowed to drive any of his father’s vehicles.
I’ve only been staying here for a few weeks, but it’s obvious that Alex’s dad is upset with him, yet I can’t figure out why. And Alex never wants to discuss it when we could be doing other more enjoyable activities.
“Whitney?”
Speak of the devil. And, wow, he’s home really early today.
“Go,” Mackenzie says, urging me off her bed. “Before he comes in here.”
“Okay, but I’ll come back to check on you later,” I tell her with a sad smile before I step out into the hallway, shutting her door behind me.
“Hey,” I call out to my boyfriend when I see him coming out of his bedroom. “Everything okay?” I ask when I see the frown on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asks when he comes over and sweeps me into his arms. “Have you heard from home?”
“Yeah,” I answer with a sigh against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent that I miss whenever he’s gone.
“Come on, let’s go in my room to talk,” he suggests, wrapping an arm around my lower back to guide me inside. After he shuts the door, Alex takes my hand in his and leads me to the loveseat. “So how are you doing?” he asks, keeping my hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles soothingly.
“It wasn’t really a surprise,” I say. “Just a matter of time before she was arrested. Now I’m mostly worried about my dad.”
“How’s he taking it?” he asks.
“Not great when I talked to him earlier,” I reply. “But I think he’s come to grips with just how badly she fucked up. There’s no excuse, and I don’t know if he’s forgiven her yet.”
“What about you?” Have you forgiven her?”
“I guess so,” I start. “There’s no way to forget what she did, and honestly I don’t want to see her or talk to her again. I forgive her, but she’ll never be able to repair the damage she’s done.”
“It’s okay to be angry at her,” Alex tells me. “Anyone in your place would be.”
“She was never much of a mother, so I’ve pretty much come to terms with everything, and I’m ready to move on.”
“Good,” he says before leaning in to place a soft kiss on my lips.
Then a thought occurs to me. “So how did you find out about my mom?”
“My dad got a call from the Cary Police. They’ve recovered most of the money.”
“T
hat’s so great!” I tell him. “I bet he was happy.”
“He was,” Alex replies with a nod. “So happy that he’s reinstating my trust fund on my birthday.”
“Aww, congrats, baby,” I exclaim when I throw my arms around his neck. “I felt awful that you lost it for me. I’m glad he came to his senses.”
“He told me he was proud of me,” he says into my hair as we hold each other. “That’s the first time he’s ever told me that.”
“I’m so freaking happy for you,” I tell him before he lightens his hold on me and pulls away to see my face.
“There’s one more thing,” he starts.
“Okay?”
“They still want me for the American Championship League show,” he tells me.
“Yay! That’s what you wanted to do, right?” I ask, confused by his lack of enthusiasm.
“Yeah, but I’ll have to leave the first of the year for two months. California is a helluva long ways from Maryland.”
“Hey, don’t worry about that,” I tell him, running my fingers through the front of his soft hair. “I should probably go home and make sure my dad and Abby are okay, anyway.”
“Really? So you think I should go?” he asks.
“Yes! If not, you’ll always regret it.”
“I’ll miss you like crazy,” he tells me, stealing another kiss.
“I’ll miss you too, but it’s only for a few weeks.”
“You’ll wait for me?” he asks as if there’s any other option.
“Of course,” I assure him.
“I may lose the first week and be sent home right away,” he remarks.
“Or, you could go all the way,” I counter, confident that he will do well.
Flashing me a grin, he says, “We’ll see, I guess."
“Yeah, we will.”
“Maybe when I get back we can find our own place? I mean, if you want to?”
“Heck yes, I want to!” I exclaim. “I’ll start looking while you’re gone. It’ll give me something to do and something to look forward to.”
“Good. Because I don’t care where we live, here or in Cary, as long as I’m with you,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine.
“You’re so sweet,” I tell him. “But I also like it when you’re a little rough and dirty.”
