by Tessa Bailey
Like everything, however, Sage’s appearance in his life had factored into the decision to search for the man who’d helped conceive him, bringing everything full circle. Back to the beginning, where he wished for an example to follow. Only this time it was spurred by his own desire to be a father one day. A husband. Was it in his blood to be those things, if it wasn’t in his father’s?
He’d decided to start from the very beginning. With the man who’d decided he wasn’t worth sticking around for. For all Belmont knew, it could be as simple as his father being too young when he’d gotten Miriam pregnant and couldn’t live up to the responsibility. Or it could have very well been Miriam who’d decided she wanted to pursue her career and not settle down. That would have been her personality. But Belmont wouldn’t know until he came face to face with him.
Belmont stared down at the names until they started to blur.
With precise movements, he folded the list back up and tucked it into his pocket. There was no time to be indecisive right now. Whatever was inside him, Sage would have every ounce of it at her disposal. Keeping her safe was his purpose. He’d resume looking for his father when he could afford to put his concentration into the search.
* * *
As soon as the door closed behind Belmont, Sage had immediately felt the house expand. Filling all the cracks his huge presence had occupied. They’d been cleaning for hours in silence, but a little while ago, they’d accidentally brushed together in the hallway and he’d excused himself. She could see him outside, sitting on the porch, his shoulders hunched forward, and yearned to go to him, massage the tension from those bunched muscles, but intuition told her she’d end up on his lap, being rocked, having the breath squeezed out of her.
She wanted that treatment way too much. And that was the problem.
She’d made the decision to separate herself from a relationship so reminiscent of her parents. But the way she and Belmont were communicating now, the way they were refusing to give in to the need for unhealthy comfort…that felt nothing like the marriage she’d grown up watching. Was it possible they could get somewhere? Somewhere in the sun?
They were going out tonight. There’d been an unspoken agreement that it was a friendly outing, not a romantic one. Sage almost laughed at that. With barely an effort, Belmont could make roadkill romantic. What chance did she have in the line of his fire?
If they could stay this course they were on, would she be willing to try for more than this newfound friendship with Belmont? So much of her frustration stemmed from him not recognizing her as a woman. Sure, that was only a small portion of their issues, but knowing he desired her? It made a difference. It meant she wasn’t his crutch. As long as they remained that way…maybe they weren’t doomed.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs cut short the bloom of excitement in her breast. Her father had finally woken up. She was simultaneously relieved and nervous. Relieved because he’d gotten a full morning of rest and wouldn’t be in a foul, shouting mood. One of his hangover tempers would bring Belmont roaring back inside like a gale force wind, ready to sweep her away. Thomas, however, would be full of self-pity—his default when he was sober—and in some ways, that mood was even worse than the shouting, destructive one.
Sage moved to the kitchen, swiping at the kitchen counter with a lemon-scented rag, even though it had already been cleaned to a shine.
Her father stopped halfway between her and the living room, scanning the rooms through bloodshot eyes. “Did some fixing up, did you?”
“Yes. Some.” Her hand stopped moving on the counter. “Can I make you breakfast?”
“No,” he said, waving her off. “Your mother likes to fuss. Let her do it.”
Sage had forgotten that part. First thing in the morning—or afternoon, rather—her mother was at the top of her game. Her hair would be in a careful updo and her dress would be clean and pressed. They were going to have a fresh start, Bernadette would say. They were going to have a healthy day. She would set down a plate of eggs in front of her father with a flourish and stand to Thomas’s right while he took each and every bite, winking at Sage, who sat across the table eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs she’d poured herself.
When she was a child, the mornings had been a cross between hopeful and confusing. Why couldn’t her parents be like that all the time? What was stopping them? Maybe this time. Maybe.
By the time her father returned home from work, Bernie would be on her third drink, the loneliness having crept in and captured her. Sage would watch from the floor of the living room as Thomas was greeted by his weeping wife. Some nights her mother would be aimless in her misery with no specific target. Other times she would accuse Thomas of meeting another woman or not loving her anymore. As Sage got older, she started recognizing the devices her mother would use to get sympathy from Thomas. And Thomas was more than happy to comply, because he craved the attention from Bernie. Craved the excuse to drink. It was a cycle, the two of them feeding off each other and the alcohol while Sage sat alone in the corner or slipped out into the woods alone.
Around the time she’d entered middle school, she’d stopped hoping they would magically change and started making herself scarce in the evening times, since sunset seemed to be the signal for everything in the house to go to pot.
Sage watched as Thomas took a seat at the kitchen table, stretching his fingers on the surface like he hadn’t seen the top uncluttered in a while. A cat jumped up onto the surface and began to yowl.
“Do you still take your eggs over medium?” Sage asked, desperate to fill the heavy silence. “Funny, I take them the same way—”
“I’m awful sorry you had to come here, Sage.” He stroked the cat’s head. “We’ve always depended on you more than we should.”
Pleasure rose up swiftly inside her, cutting through the anger she’d shared with Belmont earlier, splashing like a fountain. Her resentment hadn’t killed the part of her that wanted approval from her parents, it seemed. “I had to come,” she said. “Mama called me worried about you and I—I worried I might not make it before something bad happened.”
“You don’t know what a relief it is to know I don’t have to go into the mine again.” Finally, he turned and met her gaze. “Your mother would have a hard time without me, Sage. It pains me just thinking about it.”
The surge of pride she’d felt at her father’s gratefulness took a nosedive. This wasn’t about her. It was about them. The same way it had always been. She turned around and braced herself on the counter. “I don’t want to think about it, either.” She felt the need to impress on him that selflessness existed. It was a real, beautiful thing, and it was sitting right outside on the porch. “Belmont came here to take my place, but I won’t let him.” She swallowed. “I won’t let him, but I think him offering deserves a thank-you.”
“I will thank him,” Thomas said, right behind her. Sage turned to find her father had stood and made his way into the kitchen, wringing his hands at his waist. “But it’s you I’m thanking right now, Sage. I was angry when you left here, because it was on that man’s dime. I didn’t get a chance to explain that I—”
“Daddy.” The guilt was so fierce, she was forced to cut him off. Was her father aware of her guilt for taking Augie’s money and leaving? Was he using it? The head games seemed too much like the ones her parents played together; she couldn’t help but be suspicious. But no. No, she’d already agreed to take his place in the mine. She was being ridiculous. On top of the guilt, now she felt shame for judging him. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes, I do.” He shifted on the broken-up linoleum. “We don’t deserve this kind of dedication from you. We weren’t good parents. Still aren’t. But believe me when I say…” He glanced over toward the hallway, where the sounds of Bernadette rousing could be heard. She got the impression he was about to say more, but he stopped, unable to meet her eyes. “We appreciate what you’re doing for us. More than words can say.”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “No.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t know why we can’t just…pull together. It seems possible and then, when one of us caves, the other caves like they were just waiting. Just waiting.”
Sage heard a creak out on the porch, felt Belmont’s pull like a magnet. “I think I know what you mean.”
Chapter Fourteen
Belmont braced both of his hands on the wobbly motel desk and breathed. He’d cleaned side by side with Sage for three hours and the proximity had taken its toll. The need for contact with her was piercing. Watching her across the living room as she’d vacuumed the curtains, her leg muscles straining, her teeth sank into her lower lip in concentration…Lord, his hands had started shaking.
What would she do if I yanked the vacuum out of her hands and tunneled her fingers through my hair instead? Dragged them under my shirt, over my face, crammed them against my mouth? His imagination had run rampant for hours on end. He’d battled the need to hold her down and demand more thoughts and memories out of her, to bathe her neck in his breath. Things he would have done, to a point, a matter of days ago. And she would have let him. She would have soothed him. He’d never used enough heroin to become an addict, but he imagined that not holding Sage in his arms whenever his anxiety deemed it necessary was a lot like detoxing from the drug itself.
For all his lust, though, there was a change taking place between them. A good one. They were communicating in a different way. Hell, they’d flirted. Every time he commanded himself to leave her untouched, to shoulder his own burden, it got easier. Mostly because he could see how being independent of him was helping Sage. She’d let out her anger, she’d laughed inside a place she called a nightmare. Would she have done those things if clinging to him had been an option? No. He didn’t think so. That had to mean they were headed in the right direction.
Belmont opened his eyes, his attention landing on his cell phone. All the missed calls on the screen. Not from Sage—he’d made sure. They were from his brother and sisters.
He could only recall his last conversation with Aaron in bits and pieces, but he was pretty sure his brother deserved a phone call to let him know he’d found Sage and everything would be fine. But he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone and dial. The relationship with his brother was different now. So different from how it had been in California. If he called Aaron…Aaron would really come. Perhaps even Peggy and Rita, too. And he couldn’t have that. The situation was too unsettled and he already had his mind occupied with keeping Sage safe. He couldn’t be in five places at once.
Nor could he be in New York on New Year’s Day. This entire trip had been planned because of Miriam’s final wish, but Belmont would rather saw off his own arm than abandon Sage. God knew his siblings wouldn’t expect him to leave her, either. Having met Sage, his mother would understand, too. He had to believe that.
Biting down on the guilt, he tore his gaze off the cell phone and went back to preparing. It was now late in the afternoon and he was due to pick up Sage in thirty-six minutes. More time spent around her, holding himself back until she gave some sign of…encouragement. Until then, he was in an invisible straitjacket. The strain was like a belt cinching tighter around his stomach, loosening a degree, then yanking tighter than ever.
A knock on the door.
Belmont’s head came up slowly, his knuckles turning white on the desk. It wasn’t Sage, the motel manager, or one of his fellow down-and-out guests. No, he’d been expecting a certain man to come find him. He went to the window and drew back the heavy beige curtains to confirm, and indeed, Augustine Scott stared back at him through the water spots on the glass.
“One minute,” Belmont said, letting the curtain drop back into place. He loosened the towel still hung around his waist from the shower and draped it on the back of a chair. Then he dressed slowly, perversely enjoying making the other man wait. Belmont wasn’t a vindictive person by nature, but the usual rules didn’t apply when someone sent his Sage down into a dangerous mine. All bets were off after that.
When he finally opened the door and stepped out to join Augustine in the cold December air, the older man’s eyes didn’t quite hide his temper. “I’m not a man accustomed to cooling my heels.”
“I know what kind of man you are.”
Gray eyebrows shot up, the mine owner’s amusement clear. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, young man. Enlighten me.”
Belmont scanned the parking lot and saw two occupied cars, telling him that Augustine hadn’t come alone. Probably wise, considering the threat Belmont had made earlier. “I’d rather you get to the reason you came here,” he said. “I have more important things to do.”
For some reason, Augustine found that funny, his deep laugh sending frosted air curling in front of his face. “You are some kind of mystery, aren’t you? I usually have someone pegged with a couple words out of their mouth, but you…” He shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re delusional or if you’re the real deal.”
Belmont had no idea what that meant, and frankly, he didn’t care. “Maybe if the reason for your visit isn’t that important, you can wait until I come to work Monday morning.”
“So impatient,” Augustine laughed. “This is Louisiana, young man. We get to the meat when we’re good and ready.” He was getting a lot of pleasure from calling him young man, which was precisely why Belmont refused to take the bait. “Came to tell you work begins tomorrow, instead of Monday. You didn’t think I’d let you start without the proper training, did you?”
“Hadn’t thought of it,” Belmont lied. He’d thought of the training, but only in terms of how long they’d shown Sage the ropes, before letting her do a job meant for a man twice her size. “Tomorrow it is.”
A glint appeared in the older man’s eyes. “You know I bet you can use this to your advantage with that stubborn girl of yours.” The syrupy hum in Augustine’s throat made Belmont’s stomach turn. “Yes, sir. The night before you go down into the big, bad mine in her stead, something tells me she’ll be feeling mighty grateful.”
Fury laced through Belmont’s veins and solidified, like asphalt drying under the summer sun. “Do you want to die?”
Augustine’s face lost its color, but retained its bravado. “Come again?”
“I said…” Belmont stepped closer, until the older man was forced to tilt back his chin. “Do you. Want. To die? Because if you speak of her again with any disrespect, I’ll spend my life in a cell, just so she can live in a world free of you. You want to know if I’m the real deal? Say another ugly word about her and find out.”
The sounds of car doors slamming infiltrated the red haze surrounding Belmont and he braced himself for a fight, but Augustine held up a hand, keeping whoever approached at bay. Not for one second did he take his eyes off Belmont. “Don’t look now,” the other man murmured, “but I do believe things just got interesting.”
Twenty-four minutes until I pick up Sage. And that was the only thing keeping Belmont cemented in place as Augustine turned and sauntered toward the parking lot. But he’d only taken about six steps when he turned back around, holding up a finger in the air.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Augustine said. “There was something I forgot to mention.” He tapped a finger against his temple. “Getting a little slow in my old age, don’t you know.”
Belmont crossed his arms and waited, which only served to amuse the other man.
Although when he spoke again, his expression turned serious as a heart attack. “Maybe I should allow you to work the first two months without letting you in on this fun little secret, but I find myself impatient to put you in your place, you see.” He licked his lips. “Sage’s daddy is the town loser and always has been. Noth
ing about that changed when his daughter went away.”
Belmont was stuck on what Augustine had said about the first two months. The first two. His eye started to twitch over the possibilities. What was coming?
“All that drinking and missing work sure put old Thomas and Bernadette in the hole. And you know where people in Sibley come when they’re in debt to the bank?” Augustine spread his arms wide and turned in a circle. “They come to my bank.”
“How much do they owe?” Belmont bit out, his heart trying to squeeze out through his ribs. Sage. She would be devastated by this. “Tell me and go.”
“Oh, my bank charges a high interest.” The mine owner winked. “Enough to keep you down in that mine for a few years to come. If you want to keep a roof over their heads, that is. I wouldn’t blame you one damn bit if you packed Sage up and got on the next train, leaving old Thomas to reap what he done sown.”
Sage would mind, though. She would never do it. He’d seen the determination in her that morning in the kitchen. I thought maybe I was capable of forgetting how much my parents need me, leaving it all behind, but I’m not. I let myself down by forgetting my responsibilities. So this is where I’m staying. Until they don’t need me anymore.
Which meant he was staying, too.
“Like I said…” Belmont inclined his head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Augustine laughed his way to the parking lot, calling back over his shoulder, “Oh, you’re the real deal, all right. I won’t question it again.”
“See that you don’t.”
Chapter Fifteen
Having Belmont’s stride hitch when she walked out onto the porch was one of the finest moments in Sage’s life. Being picked up for a date—whether or not they were labeling it as such—sent her back in time to glitzy daydreams of Justin Timberlake picking her up for the prom, pulling up with that thousand-watt grin, his upper body sticking up out of the moon roof.
