by Jayne Frost
“He’s a piece of shit.” Another ripple passed over his ice blue orbs. “Yours?”
“Dead.”
Logan looked around, absently touching the bruise on his cheek. “Lucky.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, so I ripped open the sack lunch my aunt Melissa had packed. And that’s when I found the permission slip she’d forged.
Glancing out the window at the kids milling around by the buses, I spotted our teacher and rose automatically, the slip clutched in my hand.
Logan looked up at me. “Where are you going?”
My gaze darted to the window and then back to his face as yet another wave broke in his stormy blue eyes.
Plopping back onto the bench, I dumped out my lunch. “Nowhere.” I pushed half of my bologna sandwich across the table along with one of my Little Debbie snack cakes. “Want some?”
After that we were inseparable. And when my mom died two years later, Logan was the only one who understood. Even when Christian and Cameron joined our little duo Logan and I were just a little closer.
Stirring from my memories, I locked our gazes, blue on blue. “Why didn’t you tell me Anna came to the bar the night before we left?”
Logan stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle. “You didn’t seem too concerned with your past life.” Lacing his fingers behind his head, I saw the ripple spread from the center of his blue eyes. “I made an executive decision.”
“What makes you think—?”
“I didn’t have to think.” Logan snorted derisively. “My bunk was right across from yours. I knew. Everyone knew. You weren’t thinking about Anna when you were banging your way through every groupie that spread their legs for you.”
That’s where Logan was wrong. I never thought of anything but Anna. But I couldn’t admit it. Not then, and not now.
“You sure that’s all there was to it?” I asked, cocking a brow. “From what I heard, you were quite the hero.”
Logan laughed, dry and humorless. “I’m nobody’s hero. But if that’s how Anna wants to remember it, I won’t argue.”
My stomach twisted uncomfortably as my mind veered to a place it never went. To Anna and Logan. Together.
“What exactly happened between you two?”
“Didn’t Anna tell you?”
Logan searched my face, but I had nothing to hide. All my secrets met the light of day long ago. All he was going to find was bleached bones.
“I want you to tell me.”
Sighing, Logan took another bite of his burger. “What do you want to know?”
Not a damned thing. But that was the pussy way out, so I braced myself and said, “Everything.”
Logan dropped his head to the back of the chair, and patches of sun peeked through the trees, casting his face in light and shadow. “I texted Anna when we got to the bar. Just to let her know you were safe.” Working his jaw, Logan closed his eyes. “I never thought she’d show up.”
Guilt isn’t something you wear. It wears you. You can’t escape it. And that’s what I saw when Logan swung his gaze to mine. Guilt.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Begrudgingly, I offered the small piece of solace.
Logan shook his head. “I ain’t asking for your forgiveness. I just never thought . . .” He smiled a smile I’d never seen. “You surprised me, that’s all. I thought you went out for a smoke. I didn’t notice that Darcy was gone too.” His gaze returned to the trees, and he continued, “I didn’t realize what happened until I heard Anna screaming her guts out in the parking lot. She had Darcy by the hair, and she was wailing on her pretty good. I would’ve let her go.” A shudder rolled off his shoulders, slight but noticeable. “But she was barefoot, and that fucking parking lot was a disaster. She didn’t even feel the glass crunching under her feet.” He pinned me with his gaze. “That skank wasn’t worth the blood Anna was spillin’, so I broke it up.”
Schooling my features, I swallowed the bile crawling up my throat. “Is that all?”
Logan grunted. “Isn’t that enough?” When I remained silent, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. I took her home and cleaned her up and then I tucked her into bed. And after she fell asleep I took a shower. When I got out, she was gone.”
A dull pain spread through my limbs. “You didn’t say goodbye?”
Logan smiled that smile again. “Nope, and neither did you. So I guess that makes us both pricks.” Hauling to his feet, he shoved the chair against the table with enough force to shake me in my spot. “If you’re done wallowing in the past, we need to talk about our trip to LA next week.”
Numb, I picked at a crack in the black paint on the side of the table. “What trip?”
“Benny’s PR department wants us to make a guest appearance at some party he’s throwing.” Logan fished his keys from his pocket. “You think you can get your personal shit straightened out by then?”
I looked past him to the bricks hidden behind the trees. “Yeah, I got it covered.”
Logan leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “This is everything we’ve ever wanted. Don’t get yourself all twisted.” He raised his closed fist for a bump, which I reluctantly returned. “Eyes on the prize, bro.”
My eyes were on another prize at the moment, but there was nothing that said I couldn’t have both.
The woman on the bench watched with mild curiosity as Logan sauntered out of the tranquility garden. Then she turned to me, recognition glinting in her eyes. I thought she might ask for an autograph or maybe a picture. But instead, she sank onto the grass next to her daughter and joined the imaginary tea party.
I sat back, casually thumbing through my messages. Over the top of my screen, the little girl caught my eye.
As I watched her crawl into her mother’s lap, I scrolled through the unanswered texts from my Aunt Melissa dating back a week.
Call me, sugar.
Call when you get a chance.
I haven’t heard from you. Are you in town?
Sorry to bother. I need to talk to you.
Bother?
Guilt nipped at my shoulders. Melissa had raised me. It was our sad little family tradition, dating back to when my mom took custody of Melissa when my grandmother died before I was born.
Melissa was there for all the important firsts in my life. First steps. First day of school. My mom’s first treatment, and every one after that.
I blew out a breath as I waited for her to answer my long overdue call.
“Hey sugar,” Melissa said in her lazy southern drawl. “Where you been?”
“Sorry. I’ve got a lot going on.”
“I looked for you after the concert. But you boys were already gone.”
Shit.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah . . .”
A sigh forced its way from my lungs like a gale wind, and I heard Melissa’s sharp intake of breath.
“What is it?” she demanded, her tone rising in alarm. “Sean Jacob, you tell me this instant.”
That’s all it took. The story came out in a rush. Anna. Willow. The hospital. All of it. When I paused to take a breath, a soft chuckle drifted over the line.
“You think this is funny?”
“Life is funny, sugar.”
A nurse’s aide entered the courtyard, and the young mother reluctantly pushed to her feet. Abandoning the pitcher and plastic cups, she picked up her sleepy daughter and then headed for the sliding glass door.
“Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to the slate patio.
“Help me out,” Melissa said. “Should I be happy or sad about this?”
I couldn’t even begin to answer that question. There were too many caveats. I’d convinced Anna to stay at my house for a couple of days. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure.
“It’s . . .” I cleared my throat. “I’ve got some work to do. With Anna, I mean.”
Another soft laugh. “I bet you do. Why don’t you start by bringing her and that baby ’round
. I need to talk to you anyway.”
“What about?”
In my whole life, I only remembered a couple of times when Melissa didn’t have a quick response. The day I asked if my mom was going to die. And the day the funeral director asked what color casket we wanted.
“What is it, Melissa?”
“Not now, sugar. Get Anna settled, and I’ll have y’all over for supper.”
The cheer returned to her tone, so I didn’t push.
“Okay.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “How’s Chelsea?”
That drew a belly laugh from Melissa, which I was glad to hear. “She’s seventeen. How do you think she is?”
“Please tell me she’s not pregnant.” I relaxed against the metal chair. “I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t need to take time out of my day to kick some little fucker’s ass for knocking her up.”
“That would be a little hypocritical don’t you think?” Melissa chortled. “Speaking of, has Brian paid you a visit yet?”
Alecia was right about one thing. I’d known Willow all of one day, and I’d kill for her. Brian had twenty-six years to plot the perfect murder. My murder, as it turned out.
I smiled at the orderly gathering the child’s toys from the grass as I strolled out of the garden. “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Didn’t think so. You sound like you still got all your teeth.”
“Very funny. Can you be serious for a second? I need your help.”
“Okay.” Melissa sighed. “Shoot.”
I pulled Anna’s hand-written list from my pocket.
“What do you know about car seats?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Anna
Peyton stalked around the room with Willow in her arms. Despite the jiggling, my baby looked perfectly content being hauled around by a crazy woman. I guess she was used to it.
In between making funny faces at my little girl, Peyton ranted, “And just who the fu—” Our eyes met before the word tumbled out, and she slammed her mouth shut, “—the fudge does he think he is?”
Sadly, I wasn’t sure which of the men in my life Peyton was referring to, so I stayed quiet.
Incredulous over my silence, her eyes bulged. “You don’t seem too concerned that D-E-A-N is kicking you out of your own home.”
Willow cocked her head, looking up at her godmother like she knew exactly whose name Peyton was spelling out.
“It’s his house, Pey,” I replied. “Not mine.”
Slumping into the chair Sean had slept in, I curled my hands over the armrests, hoping a little of his unwavering belief lingered in the cheap wooden frame. He’d sounded so sure when he told me everything would be all right.
Peyton settled onto the bed and gave Willow her phone to play with.
A long moment of silence ensued, and then, as if she could see inside my head, Peyton said, “You don’t have to go home with Sean, you know. I’ve got plenty of room.”
Without meeting her gaze, I gave a little nod of acknowledgment. I couldn’t look Peyton in the eye or she’d see, she’d know, that I wanted to go home with Sean.
Forever wasn’t in the cards for us.
I’d taken the liberty of checking my work email, and Conner was serious about the tour.
Soon, Sean would be back on the road, and he’d forget about me. Not completely. I’d be there, at the edge of his thoughts. But he’d get on with his life. He’d done it before. I just wanted a few days, a week maybe, to live the life we should’ve had.
And then we’d move on.
Only this time we wouldn’t be strangers. I’d seen the way Sean looked at our daughter, cataloging her every move, her smile. We’d always be a part of each other’s lives. And that would have to be enough.
Plastering on a fake smile for my best friend, I said, “Sean is going to be leaving soon. He deserves a chance to get to know his daughter.”
Peyton lifted a pale brow in challenge. “And he can’t do that without you living in his house?”
I pushed out of the chair and faced her, hands on my hips and wry smile firmly in place. “You live in a loft. One big room. As much as you love Willow, you have no idea how hard it would be if we moved in.”
Peyton’s eyes skated to my daughter. She knew I was right.
But just to keep her off balance I added, “Maybe after Sean leaves for the tour, I’ll stay with you for a while.”
Peyton nodded without reservation, and for that, I gave her a genuine smile. If I were going anywhere, it would be to my parents. But hopefully Dean would be reasonable with his demands, and I could afford a little apartment close to the bridge on highway 360.
My phone buzzed, and Avenged Sevenfold’s “So Far Away” bled from the speaker before I could silence it. Pressing ignore on Sean’s call, heat rose in my cheeks.
Damn it. I needed to change that ringtone before Sean heard it.
Peyton scooted to the edge of the bed, eyes on my phone. “Well, that’s my cue. I need to leave before Prince Charming shows up,” she hopped to her feet, “or I’m liable to throat punch him.”
I had to laugh at the visual. Peyton would go to war for me. But I hoped that someday she’d quit hating Sean. For Willow’s sake.
Peyton kissed me on the cheek before folding me into a hug. “I won’t let Dean hurt you. Legally, at least.”
I nodded into her hair. “Thanks.”
Breaking our connection, she held me at arm’s length, steel gray eyes clouded with worry. “You’re on your own with Sean, though.”
I gave her a weak smile. “I can handle it.”
Peyton bit her lip. After witnessing the devastation following my split with Sean, I commended her for withholding her censure.
Another hug, and Peyton was out the door.
I waited until I was sure she was gone to check Sean’s text message.
Just picked up the car seat and a few other things. Be there soon.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach. The boy made me stupidly happy.
Biting back a smile, I tapped out a response.
Meet you downstairs. Waiting for the discharge papers.
Right on cue, Jennifer the nurse strolled in pushing a wheelchair. Her cheery smile wilted the minute she looked around and noticed Sean wasn’t here. She let out a sigh as she maneuvered the chair next to the bed.
“Looks like someone’s getting sprung today.” Willow’s eyes rounded in response to Jennifer’s roar.
People typically shouted when they found out that Willow was hearing impaired. The trick was to raise your voice a couple of octaves without adding any edge to your tone.
Jennifer held out her arms and my daughter promptly shrank against the bed railing.
I rushed to intercede. “I’ll get her. She’s a little shy.”
Jennifer nodded, then did a slow circuit around the room. Snagging a soda can resting on the window ledge in front of the chair where Sean had been seated, she stowed it in the pocket of her scrubs when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Seriously? Was she going to sell it on eBay, or what?
“Do you need help getting Willow downstairs?” Jennifer offered, a little overeager.
Picturing the petite nurse jumping into Sean’s arms and attaching herself like a spider monkey, I shook my head. “No. I’m good. Thank you, though.”
Psycho.
Another nod, followed by a bereft little sigh, and then Jennifer turned on her heel and walked out.
I settled Willow into the wheelchair, rolling my eyes when the door swished open. Expecting to find Jennifer, possibly with flowers and maybe candy, I blinked at the well-dressed woman standing in the doorway.
“Mrs. Kent?”
My gaze fell to the hospital ID pinned to the lapel of her blazer before shifting to the manila folder tucked under her arm.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m Anna Kent.”
She walked toward me, hand outstretched. “Valerie Tustin.” Sliding my palm into hers, I gave her a fi
rm shake, and she continued, “I work in the hospital’s accounting department. I’ve been assigned to your case.”
My case?
Valerie dropped the file on top of the rolling table and then took a seat in the plastic chair. “Do you have time to discuss your bill?”
The question was obviously rhetorical since Valerie was already picking through the file.
“Sure.”
Willow started to squirm, so I crouched to eye level, and said close to her ear, “One minute, okay, baby?”
Willow nodded and reached for my phone, which I gave up without question. Another text from Sean lit the screen.
I’m downstairs.
Shit.
I took a seat across from Valerie. “I have a payment plan in place. I should’ve hit my insurance maximum by now, so they should pick up everything from this point forward.”
Valerie stopped sorting, a tight smile frozen in place. “The credit card on file has been declined, Mrs. Kent.”
I cocked my head, a nervous laugh bubbling out. “That’s impossible.” She slid a printout in front of me, and there it was in black and white—declined. I picked up the paper and looked it over. “There’s got to be a mistake.”
Valerie shifted, and the chair creaked beneath her. “I took the liberty of contacting the issuer. The account was closed. Were you aware of that?”
I put down the paper, then met her gaze. “I don’t understand . . . the account was closed?”
Valerie’s eyes softened, but not her tone. “Perhaps you should speak to your husband? The bank said he closed the account.”
Dean.
As mad as he was this morning, I never expected such swift retribution.
How could he do this to me? To Willow?
“I’ll do that.” My voice broke under the weight of my humiliation. “Can I write you a check?”
Did I even have my checkbook? Or money in my account?
While I was contemplating, Valerie sighed again. Clasping her hands on top of the pile of papers, she tipped forward slightly. “Mrs. Kent, this is your fourth visit to the hospital this year. Your second this week. Your bill.” She shook her head. “It’s quite substantial. I’ve looked over the charges. Many of the tests you insisted upon were not covered by your insurance.”
