Always My Own (Always Love Trilogy #2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Mason said he’d drive you out today if you wanted. He lives just a little bit across town, so if you want to call him, I can leave you his number.”

  The idea of asking for a ride from the guy who’d had to put up with my drunken ass the night before was considerably less appealing than waiting for Trent to be able to take me out there. “I’ll wait for you. I’m not scheduled to go into the office until tomorrow anyway.”

  “Okay. Well . . . I’ll be home a little after four. There’re a couple places you can walk to around here—Kenny’s Diner is about three blocks away if you turn left. Ah, and some kind of craft store in the other direction. I don’t know what-all else there is.”

  “Okay.” That was apparently the official word this morning. Okay. Trent put his hand on the doorknob, but before he could leave, I remembered something else. “Oh, hey—did I dream it, or was your mother here last night?”

  His shoulders slumped. “You didn’t dream it. More of a nightmare, anyway.”

  “So she’s here, in your apartment?” I looked behind me, as if she might be creeping up.

  “Yeah, but you don’t need to worry about her. She’ll sleep most of the day, probably. And Mrs. Price across the street watches the house for me.” At my blank look, he pointed through the front window, nudging aside a tired looking bit of lace curtain. “She’s homebound. Elderly. She sits in her chair all day, staring out into the street, so I made an arrangement with her. She watches the house, and if my mother leaves, Mrs. P. calls me. I do all her grocery shopping and take care of anything else around the house for her. It works for now.”

  “Got it.” I nodded slowly. “But why do you have someone spying on your mom? Is she under house arrest or something?” I meant to be flippant, but Trent nodded.

  “Or something. She’s a drunk, Elizabeth. And she’s mean, manipulative—” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. Just ignore her, if she wakes up. I’ll try to get home as soon as I can, so you don’t have to deal with her any longer than necessary.”

  I lifted one shoulder. “I’m a big girl. I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t have to. She’s not your problem.” His jaw tensed before he blew out a long breath. “Yeah, so . . . I need to leave.” He repeated the words, but he didn’t actually move yet. “I have my phone with me all day, and I try to check it, in case you need anything. Your purse is in the bedroom, by the way.” He pointed down the hall. “So I’ll see you later. This afternoon.”

  “And we’ll talk.” I wrapped my arms around my ribs. “Okay. See you later.”

  “Yeah.” This time he swung open the door and went through it, jogging down the steps to the sidewalk. I stayed frozen in place until I heard his truck start up and pull away.

  And then . . . I turned in a slow circle, checking out Trent’s place in the dim sunlight just starting to fill the living room. It was very basic. An old sofa was pushed against the wall; it was covered in a faded quilt, but I could still make out the lumps beneath it. Other than that and the chair near the door, the room was empty. It felt temporary and somehow sad.

  I sighed, thinking about my cozy little place back in the Cove. It hadn’t been spectacular by any means, but it had felt like home, even more so after Trent had moved in with me. Of course, that meant it had turned into my own personal den of tears after he’d left me. Not that I’d ever let him know that.

  I went back into the bedroom and found my purse on the dresser. My phone was still on, but barely; the little battery icon at the top of the screen was blinking like mad, screaming for me to charge it up. Since my charger was in another bag in my car, the phone was going to have to die for now. I tucked it away and dropped back onto the bed.

  The apartment was quiet. I had long, empty hours stretching out in front of me, and God knew I should’ve been exhausted. I burrowed my face back into the pillow, breathed deep of Trent and willed myself to go back to sleep.

  But it wouldn’t happen. I tried deep breathing, counting sheep and reciting Bible verses from my childhood. Nothing worked. Heaving a sigh, I rolled over and settled down again. The problem was, my mind wouldn’t quiet. Even with the blaring headache, my thoughts were coming fast and furious, darting from one worry to another.

  I’d stayed last night with Trent, the man I thought I’d never see again. The man who I’d fallen madly in love with at Christmas, married on New Year’s Eve and lived with for two amazing months, before he’d suddenly left me, with no warning or explanation. The man who’d broken my heart so utterly that I’d thought I’d never stop crying.

  What made it worse was that my grief had been tinged with anger at myself. I’d spent countless hours beating myself up for the choices I’d made. After all, Trent had been honest with me from the minute we met. He’d told me that he was a man-whore who was trying to reform. He’d deflected my flirting and my not-so-subtle invitations, and I’d accepted that we were destined to be only friends. His change of heart had been a huge surprise, but it wasn’t one I overthought. After all, I’d been slowly falling for this man for four weeks; the fact that we were finally on the same page felt . . . right. It was as though everything was working out at last.

  And for a while, that was true. Just as I hadn’t expected him to fall in love with me, his leaving came as a shock, too. Yes, we’d had a little spat. I knew he’d been upset that I’d jumped the gun on moving to Burton, but when we went to bed that night, both of us stiff and silent, nothing had prepared me for the fact that I’d wake up alone.

  I clamped my jaw together and pressed one palm over my eyes, willing all the pain to pass. It didn’t. After a few more moments, I snarled under my breath, tossed back the blanket and pushed myself out of the bed again. I was too restless to lay still any longer, and even though I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do to occupy myself for the next . . . I calculated the time in my head. Nine hours. Well, I’d figure out something. I couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day.

  Down the hall from Trent’s bedroom, I saw the open door of a bathroom. That cheered me slightly; I might not be able to change my clothes, but I could get clean at least. I tip-toed past the other closed door—where Trent’s mom was sleeping, apparently—and slipped into the bathroom as quietly as I could.

  This was clearly the domain of a male. One thin towel hung from a hook on the back of the door, and the hand towel ring was empty. A cake of soap sat on the counter by the sink next to a toothbrush and a nearly-flattened tube of toothpaste. Nothing was dirty, exactly, but neither did it have the extra touches most women might add.

  But beggars can’t be choosers, so I decided to suck it up and make the best of the situation. Squeezing a tiny bit of toothpaste from the tube, I used my fingers to scrub at my teeth and then rinsed my mouth with a handful of water. It wasn’t the same as a toothbrush, but it would do for now.

  I rummaged under the sink and found a folded towel that seemed to be clean. There wasn’t much else there other than a bottle of toilet cleaner and an old black nylon shaving kit that once upon a time had sat next to my own makeup case in the bathroom I’d shared with my husband. I gave into temptation and unzipped the bag, touching the handle of Trent’s razor, still damp from when he’d used it this morning. His shaving cream and deodorant were tossed in there, too, along with a small folded piece of red paper tucked in the side. Frowning, I dug my fingers further in and retrieved it.

  As soon as I touched the paper, I knew what it was. And when I unfolded it, I saw I was right; my own loopy handwriting covered the tag.

  Merry Christmas, Trent! Love and kisses, Elizabeth

  I traced the T in his name with the tip of my fingernail, remembering. I’d been at a loss as to what to buy my new boyfriend for Christmas. He didn’t need anything, really; he didn’t have a house, just his truck. He wore jeans and T-shirts most of the time, along with the occasional flannel shirt. There were plenty of things I might’ve bought for him, but one thing I knew about Trent Wagoner alrea
dy, and that was that he was a proud man who wouldn’t take kindly to his woman splurging on a big gift for him. The thought that I was ‘his’ woman had given me a shiver of delight; at that point, we hadn’t made any commitments, but I could tell how he felt by the way he looked at me.

  Finally, I’d settled on something simple. I’d run by Matt Spencer’s surf shop and picked up an inexpensive pair of board shorts, since Trent had confessed to not owning any swimming trunks at all, and on impulse, I’d also grabbed a kitschy Crystal Cove souvenir key ring. His truck keys were on a plain ring, so I thought something fun might make him laugh. At the last minute, I had an extra key to my apartment made and added that to the ring.

  When we’d opened presents on Christmas morning—well, it was more accurately Christmas afternoon, since we’d kept each other awake most of the night, making love first under the tree, and then on the bed, and then to Trent’s amusement, on the narrow fainting couch in my living room—Trent had laughed at the board shorts. But his face had gone still when he’d seen the key ring and key.

  For a moment, I’d forgotten to breathe. I’d bitten my lip, wishing like hell I could rip the thing from his hands and make him forget I’d done this crazy thing. But the eyes he’d raised to mine were filled with wonder. I’d barely had time to stammer out the beginnings of an explanation when he’d pulled me into his arms, kissing me speechless.

  “No one’s ever given me something like this.” His lips brushed over my temple, his warm breath fanning my hair. “Trusting me with . . . with you. Thank you.”

  I swallowed over a lump in my throat, thinking about it. That day, he’d taken the tag I’d made and tucked it into his pocket. Apparently, he’d saved it even beyond Christmas. Not for the first time, I wished I could read his mind and get some insight into what made this man tick. If nothing else, I wanted to know why he’d gone from apparently loving me to leaving me without a word.

  Tucking the paper back into his shaving kit, I pulled the zipper shut again and replaced it under the sink. Trent would never know I’d been snooping, but the thought of him holding onto that small scrap of paper stayed with me as I stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

  Putting back on my rumpled clothes—the same ones I’d been wearing since I’d left Crystal Cove the morning before—was not much fun. I grimaced as I performed the nasty task of turning my underwear inside out before I pulled it on again. I hadn’t done that trick since my college days, during finals. I shook out my jeans and stepped into them and then tugged the shirt over my head. Luckily, I had a brush in my purse, so I was able to finagle my hair into a ponytail. I’d washed my face clean of makeup, and between that lack and my hair up, I looked like I was about sixteen years old.

  I hung up my towel on an empty bar and ventured out of the bathroom. I’d just stepped into the living room, which was now flooded with bright sunlight, when I heard a raspy voice behind me.

  “So the princess finally makes an appearance.”

  I startled and turned slowly. “Good morning. I’m sorry we didn’t really get to meet last night. I’m—”

  “Yeah, the wife.” She cackled then, and I winced. “Which is a huge joke, because my boy, he don’t do long-term. He’s not exactly the staying kind, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh, did I know what she meant . . . But I wasn’t going to discuss Trent with this woman. During our short time together, one thing I’d come to know was that his mother had been neglectful and cruel during his childhood. Trent had spent the better part of his growing up years in foster homes. I wasn’t really clear on why his mother was living with him now. And I certainly wasn’t going to ask her.

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Matter of fact, I don’t want to talk with you about anything to do with Trent. You don’t know anything about—us.”

  Her faded eyes narrowed in the sullen and sunken face. “I know enough. I know my boy’s not the kind to settle down. Probably takes after his father, whoever that was. He’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. So what’d you do to tie him down? Get him drunk first? Or did you tell him you were knocked up? That might do it.”

  My fingers curled into fists, the nails digging into my palms. “No and no. I didn’t get him drunk. I’ve never seen Trent drunk, ever. And I’d never lie about something like that. About having a baby. I’m not pregnant, and I didn’t trick him into anything. If you want the truth, getting married was Trent’s idea.” I stopped abruptly, wishing I could pull back those last words. They were true, yes, but the last thing I wanted to do was give his mother any ammunition.

  “Oh, it was?” She grinned then, and I saw gaps between chipped and crooked teeth. “Ah, okay. I get it now. You’re loaded, aren’t you, princess? My boy saw his chance at a payday.” She laughed that horrid, hurtful laugh again. “So he left you, huh, when you wouldn’t fork over the cash, and you came sniffing after him? Isn’t that always the way?”

  “No, actually, it’s not. But like I said before, it’s none of your business. If you were any kind of decent mother, you’d be worried for your son, and maybe wondering why he got married so fast. But I know about you. I know what you did to Trent when he was growing up, how often you left him. I know about the drinking and the drugs—”

  “You shut your fucking mouth, you little bitch princess.” In just three steps, she was in front of me, in my face, one bony finger poking into my chest. “You don’t know nothing about nothing. Trent whines about a lot of shit, but he’s just lucky I didn’t get rid of his sorry ass before he was even born. Know how many times I wished I had? Plenty. But he don’t ever say thank you for that, does he? No, it’s all ‘my mother did this’ and ‘my mother did that.’ Fucking whiner is what he is.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that. This woman made me want to gag, and I took an involuntary step backwards.

  “That brother of mine fills his head with how bad my boy had it. How’d he know? He never bothered to come down from Michigan when I needed him. When I was knocked up and alone, he wouldn’t come. But then it’s real easy to blame the mother, isn’t it?”

  I thought of Trent’s Uncle Nolan, who I’d met in Crystal Cove. He owned the Christmas tree farm where Trent had been working since last spring, and they’d come down to Florida together to sell the trees. From what I’d seen, Nolan was a decent man who loved his nephew. He’d always been kind to me, too.

  “Nolan’s been good to Trent. I met him in Florida, and he seems like a nice guy.”

  She snorted. “Sure, to you he would.” She popped both hands to her hips and smirked. “You just listen, princess. Don’t get comfy here. It’s not going to be long before Trent gets tired of babysitting me and takes off again. I can tell you I’m not counting on him hanging around, and neither should you. You’re not his type.” She let her gaze wander down my body in derision. “Yeah, not his type at all.”

  Nausea and misery rose in my chest. I couldn’t stay in that room for one more minute. Reaching blindly for my purse, I yanked open the door and stumbled out into the cold air. I fumbled in my purse for my sunglasses and shoved them onto my face, both to protect my eyes from the brilliant sunshine and to hide the threatening tears.

  At the edge of the sidewalk, I hesitated. I didn’t really have any place to go. I glanced back up at the door to the apartment, hugging my arms around my waist and shivering. For the first time, I noticed that there was a flower shop next door to Trent’s apartment. Suddenly, something clicked in my memory.

  It’s a small apartment, right next to the florist on the main street in town. Just two bedrooms and one bath, but it was the only thing coming up for rent in town right now. I figured later we could find something else. That little house out in the country you were talking about, maybe. Once I get settled in at the law office, anyway, and you figure out what you want to do next.

  My voice that night had been filled with hope and happiness. I’d done something on impulse, but I just knew Trent would be okay with i
t. Surprised, sure, but in a good way. And that was where I’d been terribly wrong.

  But the dawning realization—that son of a bitch is living in the apartment I rented for us—took away some of the guilt and amped up the mad. I’d been the one to choose this place and to put down the deposit. It was where I intended to live in Burton, and it had been my destination the night before. My lips curled. Here I’d thought it was mortifying that in my drunken state I’d blurted out Trent’s name as my emergency contact, but it seemed I was doomed to run into him even if I’d bypassed the Road Block and driven into town stone cold sober. Because he was living in my damn home.

  Following close on the heels of the annoyance was the knowledge that I couldn’t do anything about that right now. Trent was at work, his mother was firmly ensconced in the apartment—my apartment—and I was standing out here on the street looking like an idiot. What was I going to do, march back in and toss the horrid woman out on her ear? Yeah, that wasn’t going to win me any points with Trent. Not that I was looking to appease him, of course, but still—he had come to my rescue last night. I supposed I owed him at least the courtesy of explaining how he happened to be living in the apartment I’d intended for the two of us.

  Meanwhile, a stiff breeze blew, and I shivered. I kicked myself for not having grabbed my jacket before I’d fled the apartment, but no way was I going back in there now. And there wasn’t anything to be gained by standing here freezing to death until Trent came home.

  I headed in the direction of the diner he’d mentioned, since that seemed like the most promising destination, and I did have my purse and wallet with me. I could get some breakfast, drink some coffee and at least warm up a little. But once I reached the small restaurant, something held me back from actually going inside. I still felt a little queasy thanks to last night’s fun, and just seeing the place full of people gave me pause. Through the shaded windows, I could see the filled booths and tables and waitresses moving between them. They looked cozy and comfortable with each other, and I felt like an outsider. Yeah, I didn’t need that.