“Daddy?”
She looked like a little girl, her hair parted in pigtails and her body dressed in pajamas with snowflakes on them. Jesus, this looked terrible.
The guests followed the drama like a tennis match and gaped at her. He wanted to race up the steps and cover her from their view, protect her from their judgement. Who were they to look at her? They didn’t know her. They didn’t know him.
“Christ,” her uncle cursed.
“Skylar, get in the car. We’re going home,” her father ordered.
She frowned. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“We can discuss it later—”
“Tell me now.” Her confused stare fell on him. “Rhett?”
He hated agreeing with a man who just burst into his home and attacked him, but in this situation, he had no choice. Constituents stared at him with cold accusation in their narrowing eyes.
Short of showing them her birth certificate and driver’s license, there would be no way out of this unscathed. He could physically feel his ratings dropping, but his greatest concern was protecting Skylar. She didn’t deserve this sort of exploitation.
The fastest way to protect her from their unfair judgement was to get her out of there and someplace safe. He looked up at her, doing his best to help her read the apology in his eyes. “I think it’s best if you go with your father for now, sweetheart.” Several guests gasped at the endearment and he snapped. “For the love of God, she’s an adult woman!” He turned to Erin and snapped, “Party’s over. See that everyone finds their way out.”
He marched up the stairs, only to pause when he reached the step where Skylar waited. He looked at her, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes and regret spilling from his heart.
“You’re welcome to stay, but I think it’s best if you go.”
She glanced at her father, still detained by the door. Her humiliation was palpable, and he felt responsible.
He knew it was only a matter of time before she left him. And yet, he still foolishly hoped their time might last.
“I’m sorry, Skylar. Go with him.” He continued to his room and slammed the door.
18
One Week until Christmas
* * *
“When’s Skylar coming back?” Addison asked, the same bored expression on her face that had been there since the day after the party.
“I don’t know.”
“I miss her.”
Rhett pushed out a breath that did nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders. “So do I.”
It had been three days, and she hadn’t returned a single one of his texts or calls. All her belongings were still at the house, and he assumed she’d have to come back for at least her laptop, as her final was this week, but she hadn’t been by.
The mansion had been put back to rights, but everything felt wrong. The tree no longer appeared decorated with amateur hands, the rooms smelled of disinfectant and chemical furniture polish instead of fresh baked goods, and everything was quiet—no Christmas carols, no laughter, no silly songs about cleaning up or washing hands. And where the hell were Addison’s paper snowflakes and craft projects. The walls were once again naked.
He’d been trapped in the house, hiding from the rumor mill, and nursing a nasty black eye and swollen lip. Seriously, who punched people at this age?
He glanced at his daughter and had his answer—fathers trying to protect their little girls.
He wasn’t sure how anyone found out about him and Skylar, but what irked him more was the fact that he hadn’t consciously meant to keep their relationship a secret for any reason other than his desire for privacy. Yes, she was younger, but she was of legal age and an adult. He’d done nothing wrong!
But the more he thought back over their time together, the more things came into view. He recalled their first night together and all the things he didn’t want to see. The way her body felt. The innocent way she looked at him. Her notable shyness.
The longer he thought about her inexperience, the more he felt like an absolute monster.
Her father was right to hit him.
He hated thinking he’d caused her any kind of pain. As someone in the public eye, he was emotionally prepared for the backlash of gossip. No one was universally accepted by all. But he never wanted the criticism he faced on a daily basis to touch those he cared about.
He could handle it. They shouldn’t have to.
Growing up as he had, an outcast amongst so many kids who hardly realized how privileged they were, he’d formed a thick skin. He never had the clothes other kids had or the popular toys. Hell, he was lucky if he even had food.
But it was never his envy for their material possessions that kept him up crying at night as a boy. It was the sight of their parents picking them up at the end of the day, the sound of moms and dads asking how their days were and if they had fun at school.
Most evenings, Rhett wandered home alone. The days he didn’t were the days he hid in the school and slept overnight. For years, his mom didn’t notice him missing from his bed, but when she eventually did, she beat him black and blue. That was when the questions started.
They said their meddling was out of concern, but their questions only made things worse. The closer the teachers and principal examined his home life, the more his world seemed put on display. The few friends he had started to notice all the ways he was different and then they didn’t want to be his friend anymore.
When he found his mom dead, a needle still in her arm, his first thought was how much she’d spent on the stuff that stole her life. People said children were expensive, but Rhett now knew they didn’t have to be. His mother never spent on him what she put into her addiction.
She never held him or claimed to love him, but he still cried over her body that night. She was all he knew, and the unknown loomed with terrifying possibilities he couldn’t face.
The days after her death were a blur. He remembered the blue car that picked him up and drove him to a brown building where he waited for his new foster parents to arrive. The foolish hope that these foster parents might act like the other parents at school, gave him the courage to go with the strange family.
But in a matter of days, it became clear that he would never be viewed the same as their other children. He would never be theirs. Always an outsider. Always different.
He became withdrawn, preferring to watch television or read rather than interact with people. Addicted to old TV shows where a mom and dad lived together with a family in a happy house tucked away in a safe little town, he lost interest in reality. Reality was ugly.
The idea that such a picture-perfect life could exist captivated him. It was nothing like the life he had with his mom or the one he claimed with his foster family, but it became everything he wanted.
Then things changed again, and his foster parents started fighting more than usual. They said they couldn’t keep him and he had to go back to the brown building. Their rejection hurt, because no matter how much they fought, they wouldn’t give up any of their real kids, the kids they loved.
Rhett spent a lot of time in that brown building. Over the years, the interior had changed, but the outside always looked the same and the outcomes never brought lasting relief.
No matter where he went, the people didn’t love him. They loved their other children, but never him.
When he was seventeen, on his way back to the brown building again, he’d finally admitted that he might be unlovable. Rather than suffer another family’s rejection, he ran.
He took odd jobs and stayed at boarding houses, until he crossed paths with a dairy farmer who offered him a job with free room and board. For nine years he worked on that farm, saving almost every penny he earned. He read a lot and bought a cell phone, which gave him access to the internet. He’d spent hours searching properties and dreaming of a day he might own his own home, perhaps even have a wife.
It had been years since anyone had taken interest in h
im, so when Adel showed up at the country fair one year with her pretty blonde hair and flirty eyes, he didn’t think it was anything personal. She said she needed a friend, someone who wasn’t tied down and could travel with her to singing gigs.
Her voice was pure gold and when she sang, he thought she might be an angel. But there was nothing pure about Adel, and the first time she touched him, she introduced him to a world of sin.
He should have known she was dangerous. Everything she did was fast. He quit the dairy farm and followed her down the coast where she’d spend the days sleeping wherever he managed to book a room, and the nights singing and partying with strangers.
He didn’t like when she came home smelling of other men, but he didn’t know who he was without her. She started dabbling with drugs, reminding him a lot of his mother, and he couldn’t be her friend anymore.
Finally, Rhett left and found a job working for a broker who taught him how to buy and sell stocks. He ran into Adel again, several years later, and she was no longer singing. Her body was skin and bones and she pleaded in desperation, begging him to help her get well.
She was the only true friend he ever had, so he couldn’t turn his back on her. If she died, he’d have no friends at all.
Rhett had secured a nice apartment and let her stay for a few months. She slowly nursed herself back to health, but she never fully recovered to the girl she once was. The claws of addiction had a permanent hold on her, and she’d often cry for an exorcism that didn’t exist. She could be so warm and feminine and then in the next moment out of her mind irrational.
He cared about her and wanted to see her get well. He arranged for her to see a doctor and speak to a professional. They told her she suffered from bipolar disorder, which explained why it sometimes felt like he was living with two people. He knew then, no matter how much part of her cared for him, she’d never fully love him, because another part of her would always love drugs more.
He told her it was best if she found her own place, and he’d help her any way he could. In a moment of weakness, when she was soft and weeping over the fact that she couldn’t be enough for him, he allowed her to get close again. Nine months later, Addison was born.
Rhett stared at the fireplace, taking in the grand hearth and expensive moldings. His life now unrecognizable from what it had once been.
After Addy was born, he made a promise to her and to himself. She would never want for anything. He knew how ugly the world could be, and he wanted to take her someplace safe and removed from crime and danger, a place like the towns he saw on television.
When he found Jasper Falls, he knew he found the perfect town. He just had to figure out how to make a home. Finding a place to live was easy. He had money from buying and selling stocks. But he had no idea what made a house a home, and he desperately wanted a warm, happy home for his daughter.
No one knew him there. They didn’t know his background or his upbringing. They only knew what he showed them. And while the small town was worlds away from the rough city he escaped, it was a far cry from perfect.
He wanted to give his daughter perfection. He wanted to create a place that mimicked the life he only saw on television shows and movies. He wanted to raise her somewhere safe, where people waved and left their doors unlocked. He wanted her to feel surrounded by love, always.
When the prior mayor announced he was retiring, Rhett saw an opportunity. He sold an idea to the townsfolk, with a promise that they could be more.
Jasper Falls needed work. It needed an economic boom, and without change, that wouldn’t happen. He campaigned hard and painted a picture the locals could see and feel. Vincenzo Marcelli, Skylar’s grandfather, had run against him, but Rhett had won in a landslide.
The thing about selling an entire population a fictional ideal, was that beneath all the antiquated charm, real secrets still hid. Families had dirty laundry, married people had affairs, and even their police station required a jail cell from time to time. Hell, there was a reason the line at the confessional was as long as the line at Dairy Queen some days.
But despite everyone else’s flaws, they expected him to be perfect. He wasn’t even close.
One would think that being a single father might have tipped them off, but no. They believed what they wanted to believe, and the other night had ripped away the illusion of perfection, exposing him as a flawed human who didn’t have all the answers, and now they were angry.
They felt tricked and deceived. Betrayed. He should have cared, but the only one who had truly been cheated, was Skylar.
He tried calling her again but the call dumped into voicemail. “It’s me. Please call me back. I’m worried about you.”
Was she worried about him? Probably not. She had every right to be angry. If not for him, she wouldn’t be the focal point of the town’s gossip. People could be so heartless.
He needed to do something. Would she be at her parents’? No, he couldn’t go there. That would be disastrous. But he couldn’t just sit by and wait for something to happen. He had to get the facts straight and clear things up if he ever wanted to fix this.
No clue what to do or how to repair the damage, he felt helpless. He needed to get out of this house and do something. Anything was better than sitting in his den sulking.
“Addison, get your coat. We’re going into town.”
They drove around and he looked for any sign of Skylar’s car but found nothing. He wound up parked outside of Vincenzo’s. What would happen if he went inside?
He glanced in the mirror and his daughter smiled at the reflection of his eyes. “Are we getting pizza, Daddy?”
“Yes.” He shut off the car.
They entered the restaurant where Sinatra played from hidden speakers. Pots and pans clattered in the back and voices chattered from the dining room. A crowd was good. It meant less possibility of a scene.
“Can I help you?” A woman with black hair came out, her eyes shifting down as she tied her apron. She looked up and stilled. “Oh crap. You’re not supposed to be here.”
As the mayor, there was no hiding who he was. He saw the resemblance to Skylar in the woman’s nose and realized this was another relative, perhaps one of Vincenzo’s daughters, which would make her the sister of the man who punched him.
“Do you know where she is?”
The woman glanced back at the kitchen, then dashed around the counter. Her voice was rushed and low as she ushered him toward the front door. “Seriously, it’s not wise for you to come in here.”
“Nicolette, who’s at the counter?” Vincenzo emerged from the kitchen and let out a string of Italian words that could only have negative meanings. “You,” he growled.
“Mr. Marcelli, I’ve been meaning to stop by—”
“You’re not welcome here. Get out of my store.”
“Sir, if you’d just let me explain.”
Vincenzo reached behind him and lifted a cleaver off the counter. “Let’s hear it.”
Rhett paused, unsure if this man was really as crazy as he wanted everyone to believe.
“Can I have a fritta?” His daughter’s little voice interrupted, and Rhett panicked when she was no longer standing by his side.
The tension in the room shifted, and Vincenzo glanced down at Addison who was tugging on his apron. Vincenzo’s bushy eyebrows bunched and he put down the cleaver.
Rhett watched the transformation with stunned disbelief as the man selected a warm piece of knotted dough from the display and sprinkled it with sugar from a sifter, then handed it to Addison. “Here you are, bellezza.”
“Thank you, Mr. ‘cenzo.” She took a big bite and smiled up at him.
“Good?”
She nodded, white crystals of sugar clinging to her lips.
“And have you been behaving? Santi-clause is watching, you know.”
“I know. I’ve been good.”
The man grinned and pinched her cheek. Then he turned his eyes back to Rhett and glared. “You, in the
back. Nicolette, watch the little one.”
Rhett followed the man through the kitchen where his wife and two other daughters were cooking. It was like walking to the gallows—and he feared it might be one-way.
Vincenzo led him out the back door, which was propped open so the cold air could come in. The man dropped to sit on an upside-down bucket, careless of the cold even though his shoulders were bare.
He popped a half-smoked cigar into his mouth and lit it, puckering his lips around the chewed off tip until the other end glowed cherry red. He blew a ring of smoke in Rhett’s direction. “You tell me your side. I already know my son’s.”
Rhett frowned. “Your son has nothing to do with this.”
“My son has everything to do with this. Skylar is his daughter.”
“With all due respect, Skylar is a grown woman.”
“She’s just a girl.”
“You’re wrong. She’s independent and smart and completely capable of taking care of herself. She hasn’t been just a girl for a long time.”
Vincenzo waved away his words. “Are you saying, if you were in Anthony’s shoes, you would have behaved differently? Think of that little bellezza out there.”
“I would have acted a little more civilized. Your son stormed into my home during a formal event, made a scene, and attacked me.”
Vincenzo folded his arms over his meagerly clothed, hairy chest. Unconcerned by the savage behavior of his son. Rhett wasn’t getting through to him.
“Mr. Marcelli, your son might have come with the impression that he was protecting your granddaughter, but he humiliated her. I’d never do anything to hurt Skylar the way he did.”
“My son’s been under a lot of stress with work.”
“That’s not an excuse. She didn’t deserve to be embarrassed in front of a room full of strangers.”
“You disgraced her.”
“I did no such thing. I respect her.”
“If you respect her, you wait.”
“Did any of you consider that she might not have wanted that? She’s her own person, capable of making her own decisions. We’re still figuring this out, but I know for certain that I never took advantage of her the way your family assumes.”
Pining For You: Jasper Falls Page 19
