Come Home to Me

by Brenda Novak

  It bothered Aaron that she wanted him out of her life so completely. He was going to try and stand up and do the right thing—and she was acting as if her worst fears had been confirmed. “That disappoints you?”

  “I’m sure we can work out something that’ll be fair to both of us.”

  Her words were measured and polite—nothing like the impulsive, passionate woman he’d known who’d always worn her heart on her sleeve. He hated the transformation. But he was determined not to cause an argument now that they’d made some progress toward an amicable solution.

  “Great,” he said with a nod. “So is there any way we can start by letting me take him for a few hours? I’m off work tomorrow and...I’d like the chance to become more familiar with him.”

  She avoided his gaze. “I guess that would be fine.”

  “You could both come over, if you’re worried.” He hoped she’d say yes. He knew it would be a lot more fun that way. Surely she’d loosen up once they spent some time together and he’d find his friend again.

  But the bell over the door rang before she could answer, and they both turned to see Riley walk in.

  Riley took one look at Presley’s swollen eyes and hurried to her side. “You okay?”

  Aaron was back to wanting to punch him. Riley was behaving as if Aaron was some kind of bully, as if she needed someone else’s protection.

  “Good as ever,” she told him. “We’re just...settling some details. Could you wait for me out in the car? It’ll only be a few minutes. Then I’ll explain everything.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, and it was all Aaron could do not to show him how little they needed his presence.

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”

  With a final condemning glance for Aaron, Riley stalked out.

  Aaron stepped closer to Presley and lowered his voice. “You can’t be serious about that guy.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Let’s decide right now that we won’t comment on each other’s romantic interests.”

  “Romantic interests? You’re not sleeping with him!”

  “Aaron—”

  He raised one hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was out of line.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So what about tomorrow?”

  “You can pick Wyatt up at ten. But before you take him anywhere, I need to teach you how to change a diaper.”

  “You won’t be joining us?”

  “No.”

  He scowled. “Why not?”

  “Riley’s taking me on a picnic.”

  Aaron breathed in through his nose and let the air go out his mouth. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Goodbye.”

  It was definitely time to leave, but the situation felt so surreal he couldn’t seem to move his feet. Presley had always been singularly devoted to him. Now she was the mother of his son, and they would be dealing with each other for the next two decades or more, but she was determined not to even like him?

  “Where are you and Riley going tonight?” he asked.

  “To get something to eat.”

  And then what?

  He knew better than to ask.

  21

  “So it’s true?” Riley asked. “Wyatt belongs to Aaron?”

  Presley forced herself to swallow the salad she’d put in her mouth. She hadn’t been hungry, not since Aaron had confronted her at the studio. But Riley had asked Cheyenne to keep Wyatt for an extra hour so he could take her out to eat, and Cheyenne had happily agreed. “Yes.”

  Judging by the grim set of his mouth, he wasn’t pleased to hear this news. She could understand why he wouldn’t be. Aaron would continue to be part of her life—and the life of any man she got involved with, especially if that man became a permanent fixture.

  “Why didn’t you tell him when you found out you were pregnant?” he asked. “You didn’t think he’d stand up and be a father?”

  “It was my decision to keep the baby. I figured it should be my responsibility to raise him.” She stuck another bite of salad in her mouth. They’d made small talk until their meals arrived, carefully avoiding the subject of Aaron but, apparently, the pleasant part of the conversation was over. She lamented that. After all the angst and worry she’d been feeling since Aaron learned about Wyatt, she wanted to relax. But that would be impossible. Word would spread and everyone who knew her would have an opinion—questions, too.

  Riley had ordered a burger and fries; he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It takes two to make a baby, Presley.”

  Everyone said that. But no one understood the nuances of their relationship—the gratitude she owed Aaron for befriending her. For giving her someone she liked so much to hang out with during those lonely years. For the attention and fun. Even for meeting her physical needs so expertly and completely. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but the pregnancy was more my fault than his.”

  Such a lame explanation only elicited another grimace. “That makes it sound like you tried to get pregnant.”

  “I definitely didn’t try,” she said ruefully. “I was in no state to raise a child and terrified of failing as a mother.” Like her mother had failed. “I just mean that...I knew he wasn’t in love with me and yet I kept seeing him, kept sleeping with him. I guess you could say I deserved what I got.”

  “A lot of people have lopsided relationships. That doesn’t release the uninterested party from all responsibility.”

  She didn’t think the relationships he referred to were quite as lopsided as hers had been. “Is that how it was with Jacob’s mother?”

  This subject couldn’t be any more comfortable for Riley than Aaron was for her, but he didn’t seem reluctant to talk about it. Maybe he’d expected her to broach his own past at some point.

  “Not at first. Phoenix was...different. She had a...darker quality than any other girl I’d been with. My friends thought I was crazy to be attracted to her. They didn’t get her. But I saw her as quirky, intriguing.”

  Suddenly the fact that Riley, who came across as so mainstream, could be interested in dating someone with a few rough edges didn’t seem so unusual. “Like me?”

  “Sometimes you remind me of her,” he said. “A little.”

  She added more dressing to her salad. “How long were you two together?”

  “Maybe three months.”

  “That’s not long.”

  “No. And yet the relationship progressed really fast, considering we were both virgins when we started talking.”

  Presley had been about to take a sip of water. Distracted, she set her glass down. “You got the first girl you ever slept with pregnant? How’s that for shitty luck?”

  He was chewing, so he just gave her an ironic smile.

  “You were so young!” she exclaimed.

  “Young and stupid,” he added when he could speak.

  “Was it the news of the baby that came between you? Did the thought of having a kid put too much pressure on the relationship?”

  “It wasn’t that. I didn’t know she was pregnant until after the...incident.”

  The incident. He was talking about Phoenix running down his next love interest with her mother’s Buick. But Presley could see why he might not want to say that. The death of Lori Mansfield had been tragic and horrifying. There was still a sad echo in the community today. Lori’s family wasn’t about to let anyone forget. They held a candlelight vigil on the anniversary of her death each year, and every time Phoenix was eligible for parole, they gathered as many people as they could to appear before the parole board and lobby against her release. Presley had seen articles about it in the Gold Country Gazette, which she’d followed religiously once she’d left town. That had been her only taste of home, besides hearing from Cheyenne.
>
  “So why’d you break up with her?” she asked.

  “It was too intense a relationship for seventeen. We wanted to be together 24/7. My grades and sports were starting to suffer, and my parents were freaking out. They didn’t want me getting married right out of high school. So they told me I couldn’t have a steady girlfriend, that I needed to date a number of girls.”

  Presley felt her eyes widen. “And you listened?”

  He shrugged. “I knew they were right—that I could get locked into a life that wouldn’t make either of us happy if I didn’t put some distance between us. We’d met at the wrong time.”

  “And I’m guessing your parents didn’t want you marrying her. Cheyenne and I aren’t the only ones around here who come from poor white trash.”

  “It may be grossly unfair, but that’s true,” he admitted. “They tried to say they weren’t being judgmental. They still say that. They call it being ‘realistic’ instead. But I’m sure Phoenix’s situation and family played a role. I don’t know how much you remember about her, but her mother was almost as bad as yours.”

  “I remember.” In some ways Lizzie Fuller was worse than Anita. While Anita had been selfish and neglectful, and had often walked on the wrong side of the law, especially when it came to drugs and prostitution, Phoenix’s mother was physically abusive and mentally disturbed. Presley honestly couldn’t say she’d had a more difficult childhood.

  “Social services were always showing up at her house,” Riley muttered.

  From what Presley could recall, the Fullers had lived in a run-down mobile home on what amounted to a patch of dirt a couple of miles out of town.

  “Where’s Mrs. Fuller now?” she asked.

  “Still in the same place.”

  “And her sons?”

  “Who knows? They don’t live around here and, far as I can tell, they never visit.”

  “I’ve heard of them but don’t think I’ve ever met them.”

  “Because you and Cheyenne weren’t living here when they were. All three left home by the time they were sixteen. One even got himself emancipated at that age. The other two just ran away. Now Lizzie lives alone and is basically a recluse.”

  Presley sipped more of her water. “That explains why I haven’t seen her in town.”

  “She can’t get around too easily these days. She weighs nearly four hundred pounds.”

  “I feel bad for Phoenix.” Presley wasn’t sure she should reveal that. She knew it wasn’t politically correct to say that kind of thing about a murderer. But it was true. Her own past made her sympathetic. She’d made her own share of bad decisions. There was no excuse for taking a human life, but a broken heart, jealousy, fear, obsession—those were strong emotions and could lead to very poor decisions. Turning the wheel of that Buick the wrong way when she was seventeen had in effect taken two lives, since she’d never be the same or have the same prospects.

  Fortunately, Riley didn’t seem offended. “In some ways, I do, too,” he said. “The girl I knew would never harm anyone. She was tough, a force to be reckoned with, which was part of her appeal. But she wasn’t evil.”

  With one last bite, Presley pushed her plate away. This was a great deal more interesting to her than talking about her problems. It also gave her some insight into who Riley was beyond what she’d seen of him so far. “What made her do it? What really goes through someone’s mind before something like that?”

  “She was seventeen, pregnant and afraid to tell anyone. I was the first boy she’d ever loved, the first boy to show her any love in return, and I moved on rather...abruptly.” He pursed his lips as he stared at his plate. “I guess you could say it was a perfect storm.”

  “That’s heartbreaking.”

  He shoved a fry into his mouth. “What’s crazy is that Jacob is nearly as old as we were when it happened. I was so young. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.” He grew thoughtful again. “Still, I could definitely have handled it better, and I wish every day that I had.”

  “It sounds like you feel partly responsible.”

  “I do. I don’t think there’s any way to escape that. I keep wondering if I’d been wiser, kinder, more willing to remain friends with Phoenix, would Lori be alive today?”

  “Hindsight is always twenty/twenty.”

  “She’ll be getting out soon,” he said.

  “But Lori’s parents—”

  “Can’t keep her in prison forever. It was second-degree murder, not something she’d planned. And even though they tried her as an adult, she was only seventeen. She’s lost the opportunity to raise her child, as well as nearly sixteen years of her life and what friends she had here.”

  Presley peered at him more closely. “I’m not sure if you’re saying she deserves a second chance or she doesn’t.”

  “She paid the price for what she did. I just hope she doesn’t come back here.”

  “Where else would she go?”

  “That’s the problem. She doesn’t have anywhere else.”

  Despite knowing they weren’t good for her, Presley tried one of his fries. “Do you ever hear from her?”

  “She sends Jacob letters and whatever money she’s able to earn making a dime an hour or however much she gets paid working in the laundry.”

  “Won’t she need that money when she gets out?”

  “I’m sure it would come in handy. But she wants something to give him.”

  “Does he write her back?”

  Riley didn’t answer; he stared pensively into his coffee.

  “Riley?”

  “I’ve never given him her letters and I’ve been saving the money for his college fund—not that it amounts to much.”

  “Because...”

  “I don’t dare encourage a relationship between them.” He seemed tortured by this decision but committed to it. “With Lizzie the way she is, and everything Phoenix herself has been through, she can’t possibly be normal.”

  But Presley wasn’t “normal,” either. Did he realize that?

  “Jacob will be confronted with her at some point, Riley. You said yourself that Lori’s parents can’t keep her in prison forever.”

  “She thinks she’s getting out this summer.”

  “But even if she is released, she won’t really come back to a community that hates her—and a mother she’d be better off without, would she?”

  “Like I said, she has nowhere else to go. And she insists that getting to know Jacob is the only thing that matters to her.”

  “Is she interested in seeing you again?”

  “No.”

  “How can you tell? Maybe the obsession has grown instead of diminished. What else would she have to think about in prison?”

  “She’s never said anything that leads me to believe she still has feelings for me. Her letters are all about Jacob.”

  “That’s got to make you nervous about the day she’ll be released.”

  He sighed. “I’ll admit I’m concerned.”

  The waitress came to collect their plates. Presley asked for some coffee, and Riley indicated he needed a refill, along with a piece of banana cream pie.

  “I guess we all have our problems,” she said with a chuckle.

  Leaning back, he stretched out his legs. “So...what are you going to do about Aaron?”

  Since he’d confided in her, she felt more comfortable discussing her own situation. “What can I do?” she asked. “He’s Wyatt’s biological father. He’s got rights.”

  “He also has obligations.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fair when it comes to finances, if that’s what you mean. Aaron has always been generous with money.”

  Riley seemed to be studying her extra closely. “So maybe it’ll be a blessing that the truth came
out.”

  “The financial help will be nice,” she said. But seeing Aaron all the time? “Too bad that isn’t all there is to it.”

  “You’re afraid he might be difficult in other ways?”

  “It’s not necessarily Aaron I’m worried about.” He could be stubborn. But she couldn’t talk badly about him, not to Riley. It just felt too disloyal. “When he eventually marries, I’ll be dealing with another woman, a woman I haven’t met. What if the two of them decide I’m not doing something the way they think I should? Or they believe Wyatt would be better off living with them?” She smoothed the napkin on her lap. “Things could get rocky then, especially when you consider that Aaron will likely have more resources than I do. So...I don’t know. The lack of control, the possibility of conflict. It all frightens me.”

  “The balance could shift in your favor when you marry. Maybe you’ll be the one with plenty of resources and support.”

  She nodded and let it go at that. The future would bring whatever it brought; she didn’t want to borrow trouble. But even if she did find a husband, she doubted she’d ever want to fight Aaron.

  She could only hope he never forced her into that position.

  * * *

  Thanks to the knowledge that Presley was out with Riley, it took Aaron forever to get to sleep. So he wasn’t pleased to be awakened when Cheyenne called him.

  “It’s got to be after midnight,” he grumbled into the phone as soon as he heard her voice. He knew it was that late because he’d watched the clock until then, trying to resist the urge to drive by Presley’s.

  “I’m sorry. I had to wait until Dylan fell asleep before I could slip out of bed. Can you meet me at the graveyard?”

  “The graveyard? Isn’t that a little macabre in the middle of night?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I just want to talk.”

  He generally avoided the cemetery. His mother was buried there, and he preferred not to revisit the past. “About the insemination?”

  “And a few other things. Can you come?”

  Hauling in a deep breath, he rubbed the sleep from his face. “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”