Rocco tried to insinuate himself onto her lap along with Joey. When would this dog learn that at one hundred ten pounds, he was not a lap dog?
After shooing Rocco away and rewarding him with a “good boy” when he settled in beside her, she closed her eyes and rested her head on Joey’s.
His tears slowed as she breathed on his head. He smelled of watermelon shampoo and bubble bath and dreams.
His innocence must have intoxicated her, because she started singing a long-forgotten lullaby. Her voice crackled as she tried to keep her volume down. His cries stopped and he settled into her arms, resting his still-sleeping head on her chest.
When she reached the second verse of the song, his breathing was steady and slow with no trace of tears.
She smiled as she looked down at this young boy—so trusting in her arms. For a nanosecond, she could almost convince herself that she had done something well tonight. That she hadn’t hurt him. That she had maybe even helped him.
And then the ghost she carried around with her screamed at her. She should have called his father. She should have woken him up. She should have done something—anything.
She tried to untangle Joey from her arms, but as her muscles tensed, he clung tighter. There was no way to put him down without waking him up, and he was so incredibly peaceful. Besides, what would she do with him if he were awake?
She settled in with the child, ignoring her cramping legs and sore arms—arms that were unaccustomed to holding a child. She hadn’t killed Rocco yet, right? Maybe this would be okay.
Her eyes fluttered closed, but she promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep. This day had been so incredibly tiring. And Joey’s warmth and smell and sweetness had her feeling more relaxed than she could ever remember being.
***
Quentin let himself in when his gentle knock didn’t bring Savannah to the door. Her stepfather had given Quentin the key so he could help maintain the property, since he lived so close. Hours had passed since he dropped Joey off with Savannah, and if he didn’t have to wake her again, he wouldn’t.
His heart melted as soon as he entered the dimly lit room. A low-watt lamp cast a glow on the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. An image he had dreamed about, but never imagined seeing in reality.
Savannah was asleep, alright, but not in her bed. On the futon, Savannah was blanketed by Joey and Rocco. She couldn’t be comfortable, but her eyes remained closed, even as the floor creaked under his weight. He didn’t want to disturb this perfect picture, but he didn’t want her to be achy.
Kissing Savannah on the head, he gently pried her hands off of Joey. He swung his son into his arms, intending to move him to the side of Savannah. A gasp tore out of Savannah’s throat as she jumped at the disturbance.
“What the hell?” She screeched.
“Shh. Go back to sleep. I was just moving Joey so you’d be more comfortable.”
Savannah leapt off the futon, stumbling a bit before righting herself.
“How did you get in? I made sure the door was locked.” Her eyes were frantic. She searched the room as if looking for more intruders. Her posture suggested she was ready to fight. Rocco perked up and moved in front of Savannah, sniffing Joey’s dangling feet and seeming to challenge Quentin for the right to the child.
“I have a key. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No. No, you didn’t.” She closed her eyes and pressed her palm to her chest. After a moment of breathing, she graced him with accusatory eyes. “Why do you have a key?”
“That’s how neighbors do things around here, Peaches. Have you forgotten the charm of the small town life?” He raised an eyebrow, desperately wishing circumstances were different and he had let himself in for another purpose. If his son weren’t here…
No use torturing himself with those thoughts. Given her expression, he didn’t stand a chance, anyway.
“Was he okay for you?”
“No. He needed you and you weren’t here for him.”
Ouch.
“What happened?”
“He cried. He cried and needed comfort and you left him here with the person least equipped to help him.”
“Kids cry in their sleep sometimes. He was probably having a nightmare. And clearly my judgment isn’t as bad as you’re accusing me of, because he is still sound asleep and no worse for the experience.”
“He called out for his mother. How the hell am I supposed to help him with that?”
Shit. His mother? He hadn’t called out for her in years. Joey had asked questions when he first entered kindergarten in the fall and all the other kids cried for their moms in school, but he seemed to be pretty well adjusted, considering the circumstances. Why had he called out for a woman he didn’t know? And tonight, of all nights?
“I’m sorry,” Quentin muttered.
Savannah had her hands on her hips, her skin-tight tank top showing all of her attributes. He had to get the hell out of here before he angered her even more.
“Yeah, well don’t assume I’m here to be your babysitter. You’d better come up with a Plan B for when your sitter is out of town, because I’m not qualified. Or interested.”
He knew that bringing Joey here was a risk, but with lives on the line at that accident site, he thought that pissing Savannah off was the least of his worries. The kid was sleeping, while someone else’s kid would probably never walk again. Savannah ran from her problems while someone’s wife and mother died tonight in that crash.
Yes, she had demons to battle, but at least she was alive and able to battle them.
He wondered how the good doctor who was driving tonight would deal with the fact that he hadn’t been able to save his wife and protect his young daughter. If he ever woke from the coma.
Quentin yanked Joey’s blanket off the futon, thankful the boy slept so soundly.
“I won’t trouble you again.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
He slammed out the door, jostling Joey awake in the process. He changed his energy to a calmer one, though inside his blood continued to roar. Joey looked at him through heavy eyelids as Quentin loaded him into his booster seat, taking extra care to buckle him carefully. The ride was less than a minute, but after what he had seen tonight, he refused to take any chances with his son’s safety.
And he’d be damned if he’d go out of his way to see, speak to, or know Savannah Grace. She had made her feelings clear. He would respect them.
Chapter Eight
Three more days. Three more days of this living hell. Three more days until the expedited test results would determine whether or not Savannah was a match for her mother’s bone marrow. Three more days until she will have fulfilled her obligation and could return home.
Three more days until she could put this town behind her again.
After another tense visit with her parents, where her dad had forced her to stay for brunch before he’d give her the keys to her newly repaired car, and a rushed blood test with the only doctor her mother trusted in the entire universe, she now felt free to leave Healing Springs for a few hours. Her obligations had been met, and she couldn’t sit around and stress about whether she’d deliver another disappointment to her mother.
She felt bad leaving Rocco behind, but like most men she knew, he truly preferred to stay home and laze around. Until society learned to embrace dogs in all facets of culture, Rocco wouldn’t be allowed in the mall, anyway.
Though Savannah had never been one for retail therapy, she knew she needed a Friday night fix at the bar tonight, and the only shoes she had brought were sneakers. She needed a pair of slutty heels to get her through this weekend.
With the nearest mall over an hour away, she settled into her seat for a stress-relieving drive.
Was there any freedom quite like the open highway?
She reflected on the upcoming evening, on how desperately she needed to utilize her weekend persona. How much better she’d feel after she applied the tempo
rary salve that came in the form of expensive liquor and cheap sex.
She needed to distance herself from everything that made her feel. Feeling led to hurting—herself and others. She had been flirting with emotional disaster every time she allowed herself to grow closer to Quentin. Letting her guard down around that little boy—inexcusable.
The mall was quiet and filled with people she didn’t know, which she appreciated. She found the right pair of stilettos almost immediately, splurged on a tight-across-the-chest blouse and a push-up bra, then found herself, in a trance, walking through a children’s toy store.
What was she trying to do to herself?
She pushed all thought out of her mind as she selected a robotic dinosaur toy. She paid for it, bought a gift bag, and refused to acknowledge that she had just purchased a gift for a child she shouldn’t be thinking about.
Savannah locked the gift in her trunk, knowing she shouldn’t have bought it. She had no intention of seeing Joey or his father. She was going to do what she did best—drown her bad memories with bad decisions.
In the driver’s seat, she slipped her heels on her feet, unbuttoned an extra button on her shirt, mussed her hair, blasted the music, and reminded herself of who she really was.
***
The music was loud and, well, bad. The bar was almost empty. She had thought that waiting until nine to enter would guarantee a better crowd to blend in with, but clearly she was wrong.
After dropping the gift bag off on Quentin’s porch, she had raced back to her house and prepared herself for a shady night out.
She scoped the bar without making her intentions too obvious. Not that she cared who judged—everyone had their ways of coping, and this was hers. She wanted to make her selection carefully before she struck.
The perfect guy was all the way at the other side of the bar, alone. He looked to be about her age, with a handsome face and a decent body. His clothing was small-town-average, like he had lived here all his life and was secure in his situation. He would be content with the level of what she had to offer. She doubted he’d even bother to try to get her number after.
She ordered a shot of tequila, downed it fast, then ordered another. The bartender, unfamiliar to her, smiled as she toyed with the shot glass. His salt-and-pepper hair framed a friendly face, but he didn’t attempt to initiate conversation. He served up her drinks, took her payment, and continued down the line.
Like clockwork, her target made eye contact exactly when she predicted he would. He looked over his shoulder, checking to be sure there wasn’t someone behind him, as if surprised that she’d be inviting him with her eyes. She’d have to work harder than she liked to on this one.
With a freshly served rum and coke in hand, she maneuvered her way through the increasing crowd of Friday night drinkers until she was three stools away from her target. Up close, he looked vaguely familiar. She hoped she was wrong.
“Weren’t you in my bio class? Way back when?” His voice wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t make her belly do trampoline flips like Quentin’s did. Good. No fireworks were necessary. She faked a smile and he continued. “Yeah, yeah. You were the one who refused to dissect the rat.”
“Got me.” She threw up her hands in phony surrender, then downed her drink and gestured for the bartender.
“Let me get that for you.” She sat back in her stool, watching as he nearly fell over trying to signal for a refill.
She stared at him as she sipped her drink. The faster she got wasted, the sooner she could kill off the voices haunting her. Quentin’s. Brandon’s. Joey’s.
Screw sipping—she downed the drink in one big gulp.
“Are you here for our ten year reunion?”
“No.”
He looked at his hands, wrapped around his sweaty beer glass. His face lit up with sudden realization. She looked away and rolled her eyes before turning back to him.
“Oh, I remember now. You’re the one who—”
“You want to spend all night talking?” Annoyance marked her tone, not that he’d probably pick up on it. If he said what she was sure he was going to say, she’d have to start all over with another target.
He shut his mouth and shook his head.
He moved to the next stool, leaning across the corner of the bar in a clumsy attempt to kiss her. She pulled away and downed the last drops of liquid in her glass.
“Let’s go.” She tossed some cash onto the bar and started to leave as he fumbled with his wallet to pay his tab.
Her limbs were beginning to feel the familiar relaxation a good buzz could bring. She wasn’t exactly anticipating what was to come, but if he was even halfway decent, he might help her forget everything for a little while.
His hand on her lower back felt strange, and she had to stop herself from slapping it away. He had no idea the torment that played like a horror movie in her head. He thought she was looking for a good time, and he was prepared to offer one.
This wasn’t her first rodeo. But for some reason, she was having a harder time disconnecting.
Without warning, she stopped in front of the liquor store, grateful they had elected to extend the hours since her high school days when they closed by six.
“Go grab a bottle of whiskey.”
He didn’t argue, nor did he seem offended at her caustic, demanding tone. They’d both get what they wanted tonight, and he wasn’t dumb enough to expect kindness on top of it all.
She paced the area, appreciating the blisters forming on the back of her heels. The new shoes did wonders for distracting her from the emotional pain.
Savannah focused on the click of her heels on the pavement so she could tune out the cheerful sounds of the locals on this warm, late spring night. If the guy didn’t hurry the hell up, she just might head home and take care of things herself.
She didn’t bother looking when she heard footsteps closing in on her.
“‘Bout time.” She started walking, not sure where they were heading, but not in the mood to ask.
“Are we in a hurry to get somewhere?”
She stopped short, nearly falling on her face. That was not the pleasant, sort of geeky voice of the guy she picked up in the bar. No, that was the voice of her dreams. And her
nightmares. The one who could hypnotize her from across a room. The last person on earth she wanted to run into.
Damn, how she hated small towns.
She whipped around, not sure why she felt so ashamed, but eager to make the feeling go away.
“My bad. I thought you were someone else.”
He leaned against the corner of the building, grinning that smug you-know-you-want-me grin.
“We missed you tonight.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be there.”
“Yeah, but we hoped. Joey was disappointed.”
She glanced down at her shoes before reminding herself that he was the one that put her in the crappy situation. She didn’t ask for it. He had no right to make her feel bad.
“That’s kind of your fault, wouldn’t you say?”
He bristled at her words, visibly tensing before shoving his hands into his pockets.
The world stopped spinning as they stared each other down, frozen in time. Her own world may have been spinning a bit, but she’d be damned if she’d show him her vulnerability.
The guy she had picked up in the bar—the one whose name she hadn’t bothered to learn and she certainly couldn’t remember from high school—swaggered out of the liquor store with a brown bag in hand.
“Sorry it took so long,” the guy said. “They’re running some special for parents of graduating seniors. Crazy lines.”
Graduating seniors. He might as well have punched her in the gut.
Brandon would have graduated this year. Why had that not occurred to her? She had ignored the signs—the school colors decorating the town, the band practicing late in the afternoons, the landscaping being done on the part of the common where they typically held the ceremon
y.
Nameless guy suddenly noticed they weren’t alone. He cleared his throat, looking between Savannah and Quentin as if trying to decide whether he should run or stand his ground.
Quentin stood to his full height, which was a good six inches taller than the guy she had picked up. She doubted he intended to be intimidating, but the other guy took a step back. She rolled her eyes.
“Heyyyyyyyy!” A squeaky, intoxicated voice drew everyone’s attention to a wobbly blonde, who hobbled over their way. She stumbled into Savannah before falling into Quentin’s arms, her too-skinny arms wrapped around his neck. “Where you been, you bad boy? I thought you’d call.”
Savannah watched as Quentin’s face became flushed.
So she wasn’t the only one playing the field.
“You’re drunk.” Quentin stated the obvious, holding the blonde at arm’s length as she pouted and blinked her heavy eye lashes.
“Drunk for you. What’re you up to tonight? Feel like taking me home?” She didn’t sound nearly as sultry as she tried to. Not with every other word slurring. “We can go to my place again.”
Savannah wanted to leave, she really did, and with Quentin occupied, she had the perfect opportunity to escape. Only problem was that this scene was far too captivating to convince her feet to carry her away.
Even the guy she had picked up seemed drawn into the drama.
Before Quentin could respond to the drunk girl’s invitation, a gaggle of her friends hooted from across the street.
“Yo, Ari. Get your drunk ass over here. We’ve got the Jell-o shots!”
“Jell-o shots!” The girl squealed. “Come with me, Q-Q. Please?”
Quentin shook his head. “You go on without me.”
“You’re a meanie.”
Savannah wanted to rip that pouty lip off the pretty girl’s face and slap her with it. Had she no pride?
“Go on—your friends are waiting for you.”
“Promise you’ll call me soon?”
Quentin didn’t answer, but Ari lifted herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He moved his head in time for her lips to land on his cheek. Drunk as a marinated cherry, she didn’t seem to notice. She laughed at herself as she ran across the street, shouting for her friends to wait up.
Not Over You (Healing Springs, Book 1) Page 8
