by Jayne Frost
Drea’s voice rose up from behind me, calling my name, apologizing as I slipped through the glass partition and into the main dining area. Busting out of the front door, I looked around for my Range Rover, and laughing to myself, I walked over to my old pickup truck. Yeah, I wasn’t ready to move on. There was something sick about driving the ’85 Chevy to a date, even if Drea came in her own car.
I slid behind the wheel, shaking my head. The fucking heap of junk even smelled like Anna, like peaches and hot summer days.
Yanking the column shifter into reverse, I glanced over my shoulder to check for traffic. Noting the amber glow pouring from the window in the back of the restaurant, guilt collided with my urge to drive off. My southern manners took over, and I grabbed my phone from the ashtray to contact Drea and smooth things over.
As I swiped my finger over the screen, a text from Anna appeared.
She’s good. No fever.
A picture of Willow asleep in her car seat accompanied the message.
Relaxing into the cracked vinyl upholstery, I replied: Don’t text and drive.
A photo of a half-eaten burger popped up ahead of Anna’s response: I’m not. Stopped to pick up dinner.
My fingers itched, and I longed to tell her how I’d like to share that burger and then eat her for dessert, but instead, I tapped out: Be careful. I love you.
Wincing, I pressed the back button, and my stomach knotted as the endearment disappeared one letter at a time, leaving only the safe, appropriate reply.
I squinted as the dome light flickered above my head.
Logan hopped onto the seat. “If you’re trying to get some pussy,” he hitched a thumb over his shoulder, “you might want to take the girl next time.”
“That pussy comes with too many strings.” Sighing, I pushed the door open. “But I’ll go back in an and apologize.”
Logan snickered. “Don’t bother. You’ll ruin Lily’s fun. She wants to show that girl the door. And probably the pavement.”
A loud voice drew my attention, and when I turned, I spotted Drea hustling across the parking lot with Lily close on her heels.
“Go back to trolling the benches for a basketball player!” Lily shouted as she veered right and stomped toward my truck. Heads bowed, Cameron, Christian, and Melody skulked along behind.
“Stupid bitch,” Lily muttered as she ground to a halt at my open door.
Cameron slipped an arm around his girl. “It’s football, darlin’,” he corrected, and when Lily glared up at him, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Drea dates football players.”
“She probably eats them for breakfast too,” Melody piped up, glaring at Drea’s BMW as she whizzed past us. “What the hell were you thinking, Sean?”
“He wasn’t thinking with his head,” Christian interjected. “Not the big head, anyway.”
Two sets of narrowed eyes, one green and one blue, both female, swung in my direction. Lily looked fiercer at the moment, but Mel was kind of scary in general, so I didn’t discount her solidarity with the petite blonde in Cameron’s arms.
“Climb on up here, Veronica,” Logan said, patting his legs when the brunette ambled up. “This is going to be good. Lily’s about to rip Sean’s balls off. Melody’s going to supervise. She’s a doctor.”
We all watched in stunned silence as the girl negotiated the step on the side of my truck. Sliding into Logan’s lap, she gave us a ditzy smile, then peered up at her knight in shining armor and asked, “Who’s Veronica?”
A laugh ripped from Cameron’s chest, snapping the tension. And even Lily, in all her righteous indignation, couldn’t hold back a snort.
Logan’s lip twitched as he ran his palm from the crown of the brunette’s wavy hair to the sun-lightened ends. “You are.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
Anyone else would have gotten a slap. Or at the very least a vicious retort.
But Veronica merely smiled, tucking closer to Logan’s chest. “Nope.”
Logan shifted his amused gaze to Lily. “Carry on, Lil.”
Stifling another bubble of laughter, Lily shook her head. “I just . . . I can’t. You ruined it.”
Christian shifted his weight, propping his chin on Melody’s shoulder. “We left four hundred dollars’ worth of dead fish in there,” he said. “I’m fucking starving. Where are we going to eat?”
Staring out the window at the Frost Building jutting into the night sky, its glass façade reflecting all the lights of the city, my chest squeezed painfully. Our once tiny hometown swelled its borders, but out of a million people, I felt the loss of only two.
“Let’s get burgers.” I smiled through the ache. “I’m buying.”
Two hours later I was stretched out in the booth at the What-A-Burger on Guadeloupe, watching through the smudged window as Lily, Christian, and Melody climbed in Cameron’s SUV.
“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” Logan said to Veronica as he handed her his keys. “Go warm up the car. I gotta talk to Sean for a minute.”
Brows scrunched, Veronica looked down and ran her thumb over the Mustang logo on the fob. “It’s ninety degrees.” Batting her puppy dog eyes at Logan, she smiled hesitantly. “You want me to put on the heater?”
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood while my best friend sighed patiently. “It’s just a figure of speech.” Logan smiled. “Just, you know, wait in the car.”
Veronica grabbed her milkshake, which Logan promptly took from her hand. “Not in the Mustang, darlin’.”
She shrugged, then wiggled her fingers at me and slid out of the booth.
“Dude.” I snickered, watching her flounce to the door. “I think Veronica is a little slow.”
Slumping in the corner of the booth, Logan tucked his arm behind his head. “No man, she’s a little fast.” He waggled his brows. “Which is why she’s going home with me. What’s your excuse?”
Collecting garbage from the table, I tossed the mess onto the tray. “Excuse for what?”
“Dina, the ice queen in the Beamer.”
“Drea,” I corrected. “It was Trevor’s idea. He figured I might want to give a regular girl a chance.”
Snorting, Logan slurped his chocolate shake. “That wasn’t a regular girl.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not a groupie.”
A smirk lifted Logan’s lips. “You’re right. She’s a star-fucker with an agenda. Which is worse than a groupie. At least Kristin is upfront about what she wants.”
“Who the hell is Kristin?”
Logan tipped his chin to the brunette waiting patiently in his ’69 Mustang.
Following his gaze to Kristin/Veronica, I said, “Maybe I want a little more than a quick fuck. Ever think of that?”
Pushing upright, Logan clasped his hands in front of him on the marred Formica table. “But not with Anna?”
In the past two months, I’d endured Lily’s disapproving gazes, Cameron’s gentle prodding, Christian’s transparent analogies, and now this. I wasn’t up for it.
“Anna’s gone. We’re not together. She’s Willow’s mom, that’s it. Get the fuck over it.”
Logan cocked a brow. “I will if you will.”
The schizophrenic bastard was standing on my last nerve. Logan had thrown the match on the gasoline that burned the house to the ground, and now he wanted to sift through the charred remains for survivors.
Yeah, no.
“I have.” I smiled through clenched teeth. “Hence the almost date with Drea.”
A dry laugh spilled from Logan’s lips. “If you were over it, you’d be begging Veronica to call a buddy. You ain’t over it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Challenge lit his pale blue gaze. “All right then, let’s go find you a real date. The kind you don’t have to buy dinner or worry about seeing in the morning.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t pay for sex, asshat.”
“Yeah, you do. Right here.”
With lightning speed, Logan’s arm shot out, and he tapped his fist against my chest, right over my heart. “You paid for that last go around with Anna-baby in bones and flesh. And you still let her walk away.”
“I didn’t let her. She just did it.”
“You’re right.” Annoyance bled into Logan’s tone as he pushed to his feet. “You couldn’t stop her from leaving. But you’re a fucking coward for not chasing her down.”
Glaring, I crunched an orange wrapper in my fist. “You can’t catch someone if they don’t want to get caught.”
Logan took in my silent fury with a furrowed brow, which quickly faded to indifference. “I get it. You’d rather play daddy on your terms than put in the fucking work.”
Incredulous, my jaw dropped open. There was nothing easy about my situation. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Grabbing the tray of garbage, I hopped to my feet, but Logan blocked my path.
“I know you’re still hedging your bets. Anna gave you the perfect opportunity to step up.”
“I did step up.” My voice rose, drawing the attention of a handful of patrons. “If you’ll notice we’re not in Europe. I didn’t sign on for the fucking tour so I could be here for Willow.”
I stepped around him, but he followed, like a shark circling the water.
“That’s right,” he growled as I dumped the leftover french fries in the trash. “You’re here for Willow. You get to take her to your mansion two nights a week while Anna does the heavy lifting in Waco.” Laying a firm hand on my shoulder, he continued, “And when you get tired of daddy duty you can jet off to one of those mini-tours we’re negotiating with a clear conscience. Sweet gig. Where do I sign up?”
Knocking Logan out of the way, I headed for the door. “Go play with your little friend. I’m driving to Waco tomorrow to check on Willow.”
I stomped to my truck with Logan close behind.
“Make sure you don’t wear out that hand!” he called as I slid behind the wheel. “We got a show this weekend!”
Flipping him off, I threw the truck into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.
As I sped toward the freeway entrance, the Caged disc pounding from the speakers, I skipped to the last track, the one I never played. The opening riff for “Crimson Pain” echoed in the cab.
You wrap me in strands of crimson pain. All my screams cried in vain. I’ll never escape, I’ll never be free. Your crimson pain, always coming for me.
The melancholy lyrics filled the God-awful silence in my head where my beat used to reside. Years of practice, and I could play anything by heart, but I couldn’t compose anything new. Not since my last night with Anna.
Bypassing the turnoff for my house, I continued down the winding road. As the last notes of Anna’s anthem faded to nothing, I pulled into the parking lot of the Oasis.
Sliding past a group of patrons lingering inside the doors, I headed for the bar, and I dropped onto a stool facing the large wall of glass.
A few minutes later, sipping my Jack and Coke, I stared at the twinkling lights from the houses on the other side of the shore. Anna’s monument stood in the center, a burnt-out bulb in the otherwise pristine strand.
“You look like shit,” came a familiar voice. With a smile in her tone, Darcy plopped onto the barstool beside me. “Want some company?”
Meeting her gaze in the large mirror behind the bar, I lifted my glass to my lips. “Are you working tonight?”
Motioning to the bartender, Darcy held up two fingers. “Just got off.”
She swiveled in her seat, legs brushing mine as she handed me the shot. My attention slid from her face to a scrap of lace peeking from the plunging neckline of her blouse. And then I shifted my focus to the glass in my fist, examining the red stained liquor.
“Fireball whiskey,” Darcy said.
I smiled. “Crimson pain.”
A laugh tripped from Darcy’s painted lips. “I guess you could say that.”
I threw back the shot. “I just did, sugar.”
Darcy tilted her head, searching my face. “You want seconds, Sean?”
I knew she was talking about more than a drink, and with the whiskey warming my insides, whispering promises of oblivion, I shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
Chapter Fifty
Sean
Willow careened around the corner and into my bedroom.
Hopping onto my lap, she pressed a pink hairbrush into my hand, then looked up at me with expectant blue eyes. I ran my thumb over the soft bristles, unsure of how to proceed. Usually, Lola was entrusted with taming Willow’s auburn locks. But today it was my turn.
Blowing out a breath, I began the arduous task of dragging the brush through Willow’s wild curls, wincing every time I hit a snag. Unfazed by the torturous procedure, she didn’t move a muscle.
When I finished securing the rubber band, Willow peered up at me. “Dums today, peese.” She pursed her lips and amended, “Puhlease.”
The speech coach Anna hired was working wonders. Which was a good thing, since I didn’t have the heart to correct my baby girl. Everything Willow said sounded perfect to my ears.
I tugged at her off-center ponytail, smiling. “Sure, baby.”
Sliding her arms around my neck, Willow hugged me tightly. “Luva you, da.”
Da.
The day my daughter stopped calling me Sean my heart had doubled in size.
One word.
How could it mean so much?
Smiling into her hair, I splayed my hand across her tiny back. “Love you more. Lola’s making you a special breakfast. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Willow slid off my lap and then took off like a shot. My blood pressure spiked as her little feet pounded against the marble steps.
“Careful!” I called, vowing for the millionth time to carpet the stairs.
But Anna had vetoed the idea when I brought it up during one of our Facebook chats. She said the fibers might aggravate Willow’s asthma, but all the hard edges in this house weren’t good for my nerves. Leveling the place to the ground and building a one story was an option. Or selling the house outright.
Hot air blasted my face as I stepped onto the patio. Sipping my coffee, I took in the view while contemplating the idea of living somewhere else. Closer to Melissa, maybe.
The notion drifted away on a breeze as I watched prisms of morning light dance off the water spilling over Mansfield Dam.
No, I’d never sell.
As I followed the length of shoreline to the Oasis, an uncomfortable twinge tightened my chest. Not quite guilt. Certainly not shame. But unease.
Having drinks with Darcy wasn’t the best decision. If I wanted to prove that Anna didn’t own my ass, returning to the scene of the crime wasn’t the way to do it.
But nothing had happened with Darcy. I’d rather burn that bridge than cross it. After that second shot, I’d made my excuses and come home alone.
Sighing, I secured the umbrella on the patio set and then covered the chairs. I took one last look around before pulling out my phone and adding another item to the list for the property manager.
Clean the gutters on the master bedroom deck once a month.
After securing the deadbolt and the latches on the top and bottom of the door, I turned my attention to the pile of clothes on my bed. Answering Logan’s call, I wedged the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I continued to pack.
“Hey, I’m kind of busy,” I said as I continued to pick through the messy heap.
“You’re just packing, not performing brain surgery.”
“Funny.” A faint peach scent wafted to my nose when I came across a T-shirt that Anna used to wear to bed. Instead of tossing it back into the drawer with the other items I never wore, I folded the worn scrap of cotton and tucked it into the corner of the suitcase. “Willow’s downstairs. I got to go.”
“Whatever.” Logan yawned. “I just got home. I need sleep. Pick me up as late as yo
u can.”
A smidgeon of jealousy crept in. I couldn’t remember the last time I was getting in at eight in the morning instead of getting up. As I counted back the months, Willow’s laughter drifted up the stairs, and I abandoned the pursuit. The hours I spent with my daughter were priceless.
“You can sleep on the plane,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at four.”
Disconnecting the call, I cut off Logan’s unintelligible goodbye.
The mouthwatering smell of Lola’s pancakes proved too much to resist, so I headed downstairs. Brushing a kiss to the top of Willow’s head, I dropped onto the barstool beside her.
“Morning, Lola.” I smiled as I took the plate she offered. “Anna’s going to have a fit if she finds out you made the kid weekend food on a Wednesday. You’re spoiling her rotten.”
“Hush,” Lola said, smoothing a soft curl behind Willow’s ear. “I’m not going to be seeing her for a while. I can spoil her a bit.”
I picked at the crispy end of the hot cake. “It’s just for a few months.”
Hopefully. I wasn’t sure.
Lola said nothing, folding her arms over her chest.
“I know what I’m doing,” I mumbled, annoyed at my need for approval from the woman I paid to clean my house.
But Lola was much more than a housekeeper. She was part of the village it took to help me raise my child, and I trusted her.
To my surprise, Lola gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I know that. I’m just gonna miss the little bug.”
Jerking a nod, I picked up my coffee, and my attention shifted to the clock on the microwave. My stomach pitched, threatening a full-on revolt.
Was I doing the right thing?
While I pondered, Willow slid off her chair. Quiet as a mouse, she dragged the step stool to the rack of keys hanging on the wall.
Popping out of my seat, I closed the gap in two strides, sliding my arm around her waist before she reached the second step. “What do you think you’re doing, Willow-baby?”
Feet dangling, she peered up at me through auburn lashes, gracing me with her most innocent smile. “Dums, da.”
Setting her on her feet, I gave her a stern look. Boundaries. It was a recurrent theme in Anna’s messages.
