Blackout (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 2)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ross

  Bringing Sheila to a cabin in the woods was definitely a stupid idea. Probably one of the worst I’ve ever had. And last night was a disaster. Damnit. I’m 0 for 2. Twice she’s expressed a desire to go home and twice I’ve stupidly, selfishly, shut it down. Still, I can’t help but wonder what good the Get Happy Project is if one of us is miserable.

  I glance over at her sleeping form and squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my forehead.

  Last night wasn’t a disaster at all. It was…

  I smile. I’ve never done that for her before. Or any girl for that matter. I’ve always been one for the taking. But with Sheila it’s different. Everything with her is different. She’s always in control, not that I’m not thoroughly satisfied every time but it was nice to take the reins for once. Last night was incredible is what it was. For the first time, I was with her on my terms. I did what I wanted to her body. Took her where I wanted to take her. And in the end, it was still all about her.

  I never minded the way we did things before, but I like my way better.

  Sheila stirs and I glance at my watch. It’s nearly checkout time and although I’d originally considered staying an extra night, I think it’s time we get back to the city. I haven’t spoken to Maya in days and god knows she’s about ready to string me up for leaving without a word. It’s going on three weeks until this damn opening and I’m the furthest thing from ready.

  Not to mention the conversation I had with that guy from Berklee is never far from my mind. I’ve been meaning to call ever since I found his card in the pocket of my jeans and realized the conversation wasn’t a drunken hallucination after all. It’s been a week and I don’t want him to forget me. Although, the fact he came all the way to Lewiston to talk to me, makes me think that’s not exactly a possibility. Still, I want to touch base. Just to make sure I heard him right. I’m not even sure I’d take him up on the offer. I’m not even sure I can. With the possibility of inheriting two kids and all. But then again, a steady job at a prestigious school like Berklee might sweeten the pot, make the judge see me in a different light. Still, I don't know the first thing about teaching. Well, that’s not exactly true. I taught Luke a thing or two about music. But an entire class of college kids? I’d feel worse than I did singing up on that stage by myself.

  The only thing that leaves me with any sense of peace and surety is being with Sheila. And as is the theme of my life, it’s the one thing I’m going to have to give up.

  “What time is it?”

  My gaze snaps back to her. She’s propped up on her elbow, her dark wavy hair covering her bare chest.

  “Eleven-thirty. You should get dressed. We need to be out of here in a half an hour.”

  Sheila groans and plops back onto the pillow. “I could stay here all day. I’m so tired.”

  “If you want, you can stay at my place. I’ve got some stuff to take care of today anyway and the house is, well, empty as always. You’re welcome to it. Don’t worry,” I add. “Plenty of heat and hot water to go around.”

  She rolls onto her side, a sexy smile lighting up those blue eyes. “Maybe you should stay with me. Put your errands off until tomorrow.”

  She has no idea how tempting that sounds. But I can’t give in. Not again.

  “There are exactly twenty-two days until the opening. So there’s a ton of stuff left to do. Plus, I’m sure I’ve got a million papers to sign.”

  She swings her legs over the bed, standing in all her naked glory and just like that I’m hard as rock. I shift in my seat, willing myself to calm down.

  “Why don’t I come with?” she asks. “I’ve never been to the restaurant.”

  “Really? It’s right beside Chagrin’s.”

  “But I’ve never been inside.” She pulls her sweater over her head and strides across the room. “Maybe I can help,” she says. She comes up behind me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek. “It’d definitely make me happy and that’s what this is all about, right?”

  “Right.”

  “It’s okay, Ross.”

  “What’s okay?” I turn my head to look up at her.

  “That Maya’s going to be there. We’re going to have to learn to be in the same room together eventually. I promise—no cat fights.”

  I laugh, then sigh. “It’s not going to be interesting,” I say. “At all. Maya’s a drill sergeant and the building is a disaster right now. She’s going to be bitching, the construction’s gonna be noisy.”

  “It’s okay. I want to see it. But you need to take me home first, I could use a shower.” I’m betting we both could.” She kisses my ear and my entire body breaks out in goosebumps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Sheila

  It turns out he was right. There’s more dust, more noise and more shameless flirting than I can stand. I lean against the hunk of marble Roscoe says will be the bar and watch as Maya brushes something out of his hair. The first few times she touched him inappropriately, he nervously glanced my way, offering me apologetic smiles. I just shrugged it off, playing like it didn’t bother me. Apparently, I’m a great actress because now it seems he’s completely forgotten I’m even in the room.

  He’s saying one thing but his actions are showing me another—that Maya really is the problem. When I went back to his place for a shower, I was sure I’d be able to squeeze in a little something else. Especially after last night. But instead, he managed to stall. Telling me he had to make a phone call. Of course he didn’t say who he was calling and I didn’t want to ask. But when I climbed out of the shower and saw him beaming ear to ear, I got the sinking feeling I knew exactly who it was. And now I’m sure I’m right.

  We’ve been here for over two hours. He promised to take me to dinner but it seems he’s forgotten about that too. It’s probably for the best. I’m craving Poppa’s, the burger joint down the street. Thanks to bad blood between the families—something about his father’s arrest—Roscoe has never been welcome there so it’s been a while. So now’s my chance to feed my craving.

  I step out onto the street and glance up. The sky is a rustic mix of oranges and pinks as the sun drops beneath the horizon and my mouth waters the instant I catch a whiff of greasy wafting in the air. I follow my nose, almost crashing into a woman on the sidewalk.

  “Oh, I—I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Her gaze takes me in, head to toe. “My fault. Was looking at that sunset. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one that beautiful. Far too long.”

  I smile back at her, my stomach pinching a reminder. “It is beautiful,” I reply. “Reminds me spring is almost here.”

  A breeze rumples through her long dark gray-streaked hair and she nods slightly. “Yep. My favorite time of year. Haven’t seen one of those in a while either.”

  “Really?” I frown. “I thought they had spring everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere, sweetheart.”

  I gaze back at her. “Have we…met?”

  She chuckles. “Not likely.”

  “Oh. You’re not from around here, where are you—“

  “Say,” she cuts in, nodding toward the restaurant. “What’s going on over there?”

  I follow her gaze. “My…friend. He’s reopening his family’s restaurant at the end of March. As a nightclub. It’s going to be kind of high end because this girl Maya Lewis is attached to it. Too high end if you ask me.” I press my lips together. “But, you didn’t. Ask me, I mean. I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s all just a little overwhelming for my taste.”

  The woman laughs. “I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Hey, I’m headed over to Poppa’s,” I say, unable to ignore my hunger any longer. “It’s the best place to eat around here if you’re interested.”

  She glances down the street, eyebrows raised. “I think I’ll pass. Thanks.”

  “Well, if you’re ever hungry. That’s the place to go,” I say. I stick out my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.”

  She simply receives my handshake lightly and says, “You too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ross

  The moment I arrive home, I’m sure I’m in for it. I didn’t even notice when Sheila left, Maya was circling my damn head like fucking housefly. To make matters worse, Carl Rose’s Jaguar is in the driveway which means Sheila is definitely in my house. And things are definitely about to get awkward.

  Not only do I have to apologize for earlier but I have to have a serious conversation—one I’m sure she won’t be happy with. I’d hoped to talk to her beforehand, to let her down gently before she moved back in and expected things to go back to the way they were. I need set boundaries if I’m going to stop falling into old habits. Not just for her, for me. The first being she can’t sleep in my bed. No way am I going to be able to keep my hands off her with her curled up next to me every night. I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news without her thinking it’s about something else.

  I turn the key and open the door slowly. Down the hall, the light is on giving the main floor a dim glow. The entire house smells like brownies. I shake my head, as I remove my jacket and kick off my boots. Sheila’s standing at the island when I enter the kitchen. Just standing there, staring into space, a knife in her hand and the pan of uncut treats in front of her.

  “Hey.” I pull up a stool and sit across from her. “Figured I’d find you here. Guess Mr. Rose made it back early.”

  She doesn’t respond, almost like she doesn’t know I’m there.

  “Hey, Sheila. You okay?” I touch her arm and she jumps.

  She blinks a few times then frowns, her gaze darting from the front door to me.

  “You okay?” I ask again.

  She nods. “Fine.” Then clears her throat. “Yeah, I’m good.” She looks down at the brownies and begins to slice them up. “Want one?”

  “No thanks.”

  She takes one out of the pan anyway and holds it in front of my mouth. “Yes, you do. They’re amazing. Peanut butter chocolate fudge.” She leans forward. “And pot-free.”

  I open my mouth and take a healthy bite, chewing slowly as I watch her. “What were you thinking about when I walked in just now?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing. Just life. How it changes when you’re not looking. How you can go from being free and happy and young to…”

  “Old and laden with stressful responsibilities?” I chuckle. “Doesn’t sound like nothin’ to me.”

  “I miss my sister.” She says it with such little emotion, I wonder if I’ve heard her right at all. “I want her back, Ross. I want our old life back. I want a do-over.”

  I sigh. “I know, Blue. Me too.”

  “If I had a choice though, I don’t know what I’d do. Because either way I would have lost. And the worst thing about that realization is that I know what it makes me—totally and completely selfish. It shouldn’t even be a question, my sister’s life or the most amazing two years of mine. I should choose my sister, right? Not the opportunity of a lifetime, traveling with my favorite band, meeting new people, getting to know you.”

  Our eyes meet and I reach up, raking my fingers through the silky ends of her near-black hair. “But you don’t get to choose, Blue. What happened happened. And it’s no one’s fault. Like you once said to me, ‘It’s just our shitty destinies.’ So that doesn’t make you selfish. Living doesn’t make you selfish. You were never meant to choose.”

  “But I am now.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  Her gaze drops and she shakes her head lightly. “It’s…nothing. I’m just happy to be here, Ross. With you. I’m happy when I’m with you. Does that make me selfish?”

  I stand and lean forward, brushing my lips across her forehead. “No. And if it does, then I guess we’re being selfish together.”

  Her hand rests on mine and she stares into my eyes. “Take me to bed?”

  Shit.

  I clear my throat. “I was thinking you’d be more comfortable in your own room. You know, since you’re going to be here for a while.”

  “You don’t want me with you?”

  “No, I do. I’d love that but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  Sheila sighs, stepping away from me. “Right.”

  “It’s not—”

  “What I think? Is that what you’re going to say? Because lately, Ross I’m not sure you have any idea what’s going through my head.” She walks around the island and heads toward the hallway but I stop her, grabbing her wrist.

  “I care about you. A lot. And I just want what’s best for you. I’m not sure—no, I know—it’s not me. It’s not what we’ve been doing. Not right now.”

  She laughs. “You sound like everyone else I know.”

  “This isn’t coming from anyone else. It’s coming from me. I want what’s best for you. I always will. But I need space too.”

  Her gaze snaps up to mine as her hand slips from my grasp. “Why would you ask me to come here then? You need space, but you beg me to move back in? You kissed me in the car that day like…and then last night.”

  “Last night was a mistake. I’m trying to be a friend. But with you that isn’t always easy. It never has been.”

  She scoffs. “Maybe I should make it easy on you then. Maybe I should go.”

  “Where are you going to go, Blue?”

  “Home. And considering what you’ve just admitted, I don’t think you should call me that. Not anymore.”

  I sigh, biting back the words I really want to say. Fighting the urge to beg her not to. “Are you ready for that? Because if you are and you do go back, you can’t run again. It wouldn’t be right and it won’t end well. But if you’re ready, then maybe you’re right. Maybe you should go back to your family. They deserve you more than I do.”

  She turns, walking toward the foyer. “I’ll go move my stuff to Luke’s room.”

  I stand there for several minutes after she’s gone in the same spot contemplating my next move. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. I want her curled up next to me. I want to open my eyes an see her there in the morning. But what I don’t want is to compromise her life anymore than I already have. I’ve made enough mistakes. Giving up what I really want—this is how I make amends.

  I climb the stairs my chest tight, a pit in my stomach. When I reach Luke’s door, I knock lightly. Sheila doesn’t answer so I push it open, poking my head inside. “I’m sorry,” I say. “If I led you on, made you think—”

  “Forget it, Ross. It is what it is. I’m fine.”

  But she doesn’t look fine. She looks hurt and it makes me hurt worse. I open the door wider and step inside. Picking up her suitcase, I head back out into the hallway. “Follow me,” I toss over my shoulder. “I have a better idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sheila

  I was positive he was going to take me back to his room, to his bed, like I asked, but this I didn’t expect. How could he possibly consider last night a mistake? How could he consider it anything but perfect?

  I fight back the tears—and the burning urge to self-medicate—as I stand frozen in the doorway of the room at the end of the hall. It’s always been locked and I’ve always wondered what was behind it. As I catch the first glimpse of it, it takes my breath away.

  The room is huge, taking up the entire area opposite Luke’s and Ross’s room. The carpet is plush and a deep blue. The walls are covered in floral wallpaper and a large window overlooks the backyard, situated above an equally large bed. Sheer drapes, hang from a lacy valance and are drawn up at the sides giving a perfect view of the starry sky. And on the opposite side of the room is a mahogany vanity with a huge mirror. It looks like something my mother decorated. Incredibly girly but absolutely stunning.

  “It used to be my parents’ room.” Ross swivels to face me. “Don’t worry I tossed all their shit out years ago. It’s more of a guest room now.”

  “I can’t bel
ieve I’ve never seen this before.”

  “Well, you were never a guest,” he replies with a smile.

  “Until now.”

  His expression falls and I know I’ve wounded him. I should take it back, apologize. But I don’t. I’m still in shock from our earlier conversation. And to be honest, I feel like I am a guest. In Roscoe’s presence, I’ve never felt like that until tonight.

  “I just want you to be comfortable,” he says. “I know you like your space. You can stay as long as you want, Blu—Sheila. You don’t have to leave until you’re ready.”

  He walks toward me and just before he passes me in the threshold, he drops a kiss on my forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  When he leaves, I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and sink down onto the mattress. It’s so soft, I gasp. Then smile as I consider the gesture. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He does. But he wants me to be sure. And if I’m being honest with myself, one night of fooling around isn’t exactly enough for me to determine we’re a match made in heaven. Lust and love are two very different things. Roscoe cares, that much is clear. I guess what I need to determine is how much I do. I’ve never really thought about it before. Obviously there are feelings there, but I have to wonder: What would I do? What would I give up to make him happy? To keep him on the right path?

  I saw the way he looked at me last night—felt the way he touched me. Like he wanted me more than anything else in the world. Yet despite all of that, he’s pushing me away. He wants me to be okay first, so that everything we do means that much more. All of a sudden his behavior makes sense. I walked out on him. I woke up one morning and decided I could live without him. I wrote a note, dropped it on the pillow and left. He’s done nothing but take care of me and I returned the favor by leaving. No wonder he’s unsure. He doesn’t want to be my drug. He wants to be the thing I want any day of the week, no matter how I feel. And I have to show him that he is. He’s always been the one to take care of others. I need to figure out how to take care of him. The best way to start is proving I can stand on my own two feet.