Redemption (A Golden Beach Novel Book 5)

by Kim Loraine

  Before he could say anything else, she hung up and turned off the phone. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed the lump in her throat and threw the remnants of her breakfast into the garbage.

  Chapter 19

  Two months had passed since Michael had spoken to Lena. He’d almost convinced himself he was better off without her. It was a lie. Aside from the joy of spending weekends with Mitchell, he was hollow inside. A bone-deep ache took hold in his shoulders as he started his car, heading home from his latest shift. He was exhausted; mentally, physically, even his spirit felt heavy.

  As he drove home his phone chirped, telling him he’d received an email. Frowning, he thought back to the last email he’d gotten, months ago, from Lena. She’d made him start checking the stupid account, saying he needed to be more accessible. Squashing down the hope that the message might be from her, he held back the urge to look at his phone until he’d parked in his driveway. As soon as the car was stopped, his curiosity got the better of him. He pulled the phone from his pocket, swiped across the screen, and opened his email. Surprise raised his eyebrows at the name in the sender field. Grace McConnell-Tensley.

  Why was Grace emailing him? The subject line simply read, We need to talk. His chest tightened with worry. Had something happened to her? He’d looked at Grace like a sister for the last ten years. He’d planned on her being his sister-in-law until John had died. Opening the email, he read the few lines of text quickly.

  Michael,

  I came across something I need to talk to you about. Can we talk on Skype ASAP?

  Love,

  Grace

  Sending back a quick affirmative response, he rushed into his house, snagging his laptop and turning it on. In moments, Grace was calling. As he waited for her familiar, sweet face to appear on the screen his heart started hammering in his chest. The sound of crying babies filled his ears, and the soft shushing murmurs Grace was making eased his mind a little. He couldn’t contain his smile when she came into view, a little baby propped on her shoulder, dressed in pink with a tuft of dark hair sticking up wildly on top of her head.

  “Gracie, is everything okay?”

  She gave him a weak smile as the little bundle started to cry again. Her husband, Drew came into the frame and Michael had to take a deep breath when he saw John’s face staring back at him.

  “Hi, Michael.” Drew’s British accent broke the spell, reminding him that John was gone and the man on screen was a different person.

  “Hey, Drew. Congratulations on the little ones.”

  The man nodded and took his daughter from Grace’s arms. “I’ll just leave you two to it, love.” He squeezed her shoulder once before walking away, bouncing the baby in his arms.

  “What’s going on?” Michael questioned.

  Grace’s face turned serious as she looked at him. “Your mom sent me a bunch of John’s old stuff.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know. She asked me to pick some things to send. Said Drew wanted to know more about him.”

  “I found something . . . upsetting. I need to ask you about it.”

  Upsetting? He knew he hadn’t included anything that would upset her. “Sure, what is it?”

  Her lower lip trembled slightly as she reached for something off screen. Closing her eyes, she held up a picture. Michael’s world tilted as he took in the scene. It was John, smiling, holding a baby.

  And Kate.

  John, a baby, and Kate.

  Kate.

  He felt sick. Nausea clutched his stomach.

  “Where did you find this?” he managed.

  “Tucked in the lining of one of his photo albums. Why is he with her, Michael?” Her voice wobbled as she asked the last. “Why does it say Our Family on the back?”

  Shock coursed through him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  Tears streamed down Grace’s cheeks. “How could he do this to us?” It came out a choked whisper.

  Hands shaking, he slammed the laptop shut without even saying goodbye. He had to talk to Kate. There had to be some explanation—anything was better than what this seemed to be. He couldn’t believe his brother, the person he’d been closest to in the world, would have done this to him.

  Pulling his phone out, he dialed Kate’s number.

  It rang until it reached her voicemail.

  “Kate, I need to see you. Call me back.”

  An hour later, he got a text from her.

  What’s up?

  Dinner tonight? The Creekside?

  Yes!

  The single word held excitement from her. He let out a bitter laugh. He wanted to rage at her, tear her story to pieces, get her to tell him it wasn’t true. Instead, he opted for silence—needing to see her face when he asked the hard questions.

  Michael waited outside The Creekside with his heart in his throat. A cold sweat covered his body as he watched Kate walk toward him with a sweet smile on her face. He’d loved that face once. Now he felt the dark grip of disgust as he looked at her.

  “Hi, there. This is nice.” Her greeting was filled with the promise of friendship, possibly more. She probably thought this was a date. That maybe he’d finally forgiven her and wanted to start again. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  All he could do was nod as they walked inside. He’d wanted to do this in a public setting to help him control his reaction. Choosing dinner kept Mitchell out of it as well. No matter what, the boy was innocent in all of this.

  After ordering their drinks and entrees, Kate stared at him, a smile on her lips and her big blue eyes wide. “So, what brought this on? Not that I’m complaining.”

  Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. “Is Mitchell mine?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Is. He. Mine?”

  She dropped her gaze to the tablecloth, then twisted the napkin around her finger until the tip turned white. Still, she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Tell me the truth, Kate. You owe me that.”

  “No.” He barely heard the choked whisper.

  His heart turned to stone. She’d let him fall in love with Mitchell, let him believe he’d unwittingly been a dead-beat dad.

  “Tell me who his father is.” His voice was low, measured, and controlled.

  Shaking her head, she continued twisting the napkin. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Slamming his fists on the table, the clatter of silverware carried through the restaurant. “Yes, it fucking does!”

  Her gaze darted around the dining area, which had gone silent as the other patrons stared at them.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry? You and your goddamn sorry. All this time, I’d finally gotten better, finally started to build a life, and you come in like a bulldozer and tear everything down. You were screwing my . . .” He swallowed down the bile in his throat before he could say the word. “My brother.”

  “It wasn’t like that. I . . . I loved him.”

  Harsh laughter escaped him. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? You loved him. You left me, two days before our wedding and I’m supposed to care that you loved him?”

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen. When I found out I was pregnant we decided I had to leave. He was planning to move to San Francisco to be with us.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No. He loved Grace. They were moving in together. He bought her a ring.”

  She shook her head. “That was for me. We picked it out online together. I was there when he ordered it. Then . . . he was gone.” A tear slipped down her cheek. He would have felt bad for her if it were any other situation. Now, all he felt was rage.

  “Fuck you, Kate.” She’d just taken the last good thing in his life a
nd shit all over it. “You let me into Mitchell’s life. Lied to both of us.” Then it dawned on him. Hit him like a ton of bricks. “Oh, God. Mitchell is John’s middle name. You named him Mitchell because you couldn’t get away with naming him John.”

  “Michael, please don’t take this out on him.”

  Seething, he stared her down. “I’m only going to say this once. You aren’t going to tell him. As far as that boy knows, I’m his father. I’ll never tell him otherwise. You, though, you stay away from me. Aside from weekend drop offs, I don’t want to see or hear from you. You don’t exist to me.”

  The waiter arrived with their food at that moment, prompting Michael to push back his chair and stand. “I’m not hungry.” Gesturing toward Kate, he said, “She’s paying.”

  He left her there, never looking back as he stalked through the restaurant. His head throbbed as he worked to calm his fury. The churning in his gut gave way to rolling nausea and, as he approached his car he raced to the bushes and vomited until nothing was left. Shaky and agonized, he started his car and drove to the only place he thought he might be able to make sense of it all. Home.

  His mother was sitting on the porch with a cup of hot tea in one hand and a paperback in the other, enjoying the warmth of spring. When he pulled up, she smiled, then paled as she took him in.

  “Honey? What’s happened?”

  Chest tight, he coughed, trying to control the tears that wanted to escape.

  He would not break.

  Sitting on the step beneath hers, he dropped his head to his hands. “Mama, I need to ask you something.”

  She turned pained eyes on him. “Go ahead.”

  “Would you still love Mitchell even if he’s not mine?”

  Her mouth dropped open but she closed it almost immediately. “So, it’s true, then.”

  “What?” Her response confused him.

  “Damn it. Oh, Johnny. How could you?” she muttered. Even though she’d said the words quietly, he heard every single one.

  “You knew?”

  Her gaze snapped up to his, almost as if she’d forgotten where she was. “I didn’t know. Your dad and I suspected something was going on. We’d seen them having hushed conversations, sometimes it was just a look that passed between them. I didn’t want to admit it. When she left, I heaved a sigh of relief for both you and Gracie.”

  Anger gripped him again. “He was planning to leave. To go be with her. With his family.” The last word felt like ashes in his mouth.

  He could tell she didn’t know what to say. The town worshiped John. He was practically a saint, right up there with Mother Teresa, in the eyes of most everyone in Golden Beach. Now, everything was shot to shit. The brother he’d loved had stabbed him in the back, betrayed him beyond belief, and tarnished every memory they had together.

  Sitting silently with his mother, he stared out at the fireflies as they began blinking across the lawn. Her warm hand moved in soothing circles around his back.

  “When does Lena get back?” she asked.

  He continued staring straight ahead, a single tear finally escaping his eye. “She’s not coming back.”

  With a soft gasp, his mom wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. “You’ll be okay, honey. I promise you will.”

  Dropping his head into her lap, he continued watching the lights blink in and out of existence as she raked her fingers through his hair, just as she’d done when he was little. “I don’t think so.”

  Chapter 20

  Lena stepped off the plane in LA, excited for the first time in a long while. She’d been hired to shoot for Rolling Stone Magazine, a coveted job for any photographer. The early summer weather was warm and comfortable and as she waited for her driver to put her bag in the car, the slight breeze sent a wave of nostalgia over her. She longed for the swells at Golden Beach, wishing she could strap her surfboard to her bike and head out to spend hours in the water.

  The drive was short, and as she walked through the doors to the studio she’d be working at, a familiar bubble of nervousness started in her chest. But then Angela Peters, lead singer of the band, Panic Station, walked out of the dressing room. Valerie’s little sister looked nothing like the girl Lena had grown up with. This woman was sultry, sexy, and a little slutty.

  “Angie? What in the world?” She couldn’t contain her amusement.

  Shaking her head, Angela pulled at the top of her corset and blushed to the roots of her honey-blond hair. “I know. I know. I look ridiculous.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I just don’t think I’ve seen this much of you . . . ever.”

  Rolling her eyes, the girl plopped down on the plush couch. “Where have you been hiding? It seems like everyone has seen everything I have by this point, thanks to the internet and social media.”

  “I, uh, I haven’t really been paying much attention to that stuff lately.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, Angela smirked. “Too busy living the newlywed life?”

  So, Valerie hadn’t told her. That was interesting, and very like her best friend. The woman was loyal to a fault.

  “Sure.”

  As the rest of the crew arrived and made sure all the props were set, they got to work. The click of the shutter sounded over and over as Lena had Angela try pose after pose. The magazine wanted out of control sexpot, but she wanted to capture the real woman Angela was. This girl wasn’t slutty, she wasn’t on a downward spiral, she was torn.

  After the shoot, they sat around in Angela’s dressing room, catching up.

  “So, are you enjoying the life of a rock star?” Lena asked, genuinely curious. It always seemed so glamorous, but there was such a look of defeat in her friend’s eyes, it made her second guess her assumption.

  “To be honest, not at all. Everything is falling apart.”

  That surprised her, but, then again, she hadn’t been following the gossip. “What’s going on?”

  “If I tell you, I need you to promise you’ll keep it between us, okay?”

  Lena nodded. “Promise.”

  “I’m in love with Garrett.”

  Smiling, Lena reached out and put a hand on Angela’s knee. “That’s not news. Everyone in town has known that for years.”

  “God, you really haven’t been keeping up with your gossip, have you?”

  When Lena shook her head, Angela continued. “I’ve been in a fake relationship with Aiden Boyd since the tour started. Everything got out of hand, we got engaged, then Garrett and I got caught . . . together and the video was put online.”

  Lena’s jaw dropped. “Aiden Boyd from Violet Hour?” He was only the hottest rock god in the universe. Angela was engaged to him? “Wait, you have a sex tape with your drummer?”

  “It’s a disaster. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t been able to talk to my mom because I know how angry she’s going to be.”

  This made Lena’s marital problems look like small potatoes in comparison. “I’m sorry. I wish I had some words of advice for you.”

  Shrugging, Angela stood and straightened her shoulders. “I guess I just have to keep my chin up, right? Keep focused on the goal. Let the bad roll off my back.”

  Lena nodded. “That’s all any of us can really do.”

  “So, what about you? How’s Michael? Those Oliver boys have always been a weakness of mine.”

  Angela’s long-time crush on John Oliver had been a source of entertainment for Lena and Valerie in high school. But now, hearing Michael’s name fall from her lips, Lena could barely breathe. How was he? She had no clue.

  “Uh, I think he’s fine. There’s a lot going on right now.”

  “Really?”

  Not wanting to delve into her own personal heartbreak, Lena started packing up her bag and getting ready to h
ead out to the car. “You know, I’ve got to go. This was just a quick in and out for me. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  After hugging awkwardly, Lena and Angela parted ways, but Lena didn’t miss the concerned look on her friend’s face.

  Her phone rang as she slid into the back of the shiny, black town car.

  “Hello?”

  “Lena, it’s Rhett.”

  Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “Hi, Rhett.”

  “Listen, I’ve got some jobs lined up for us, but they’re not until late July.”

  “Great.”

  “Uh-huh, but the real reason I’m calling is that I’ve put your name out at Vogue. They’re really interested in hiring you for a few high fashion shoots in New York. I told them you moved to the city earlier this spring and they’re eager to get you in. They should be calling you soon.”

  Excitement stirred her belly.

  Vogue.

  As a teenager, she’d ripped page after page out of the magazine and plastered them on her walls as inspiration. Her mom had thought it was because she wanted to look like the models, but really, she’d been studying.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course. You’re good, Lena. Why do you think I put up with you?”

  “Shut up, Rhett.”

  “I’ll email you our schedule for the next shoots. Bali in July is going to be hot as balls.”

  She shuddered. “Thanks for the visual.”

  “No problem, babe. See you this summer.”

  He hung up, leaving her reeling. Vogue magazine wanted her. Maybe if she buried herself in work she could forget about Michael. Maybe she could let him go.

  A phone call jolted Michael from the depths of his Impala’s engine, startling him and sending his head up to connect with the hood of the car.