by S. E. Hall
“You don’t have a ‘home base,’ an apartment, nothing?”
Why is this so bothersome to him? “I have a car. I keep it at my uncle’s house. But no, I don’t need a ‘pad.’ I’m on the road more than not. And if I did get a place, it would not be in Ohio.”
A horn beeps outside, the cab, so I down another huge swig of coffee and hustle to go grab my stuff. “Conner, shoes! And wait for me, please.”
“Will you be all right today? Sure you don’t want me to go?” Cannon asks quietly from behind me, pressed up against my back.
“That’s sweet, but we’ll be fine. I need a day alone with Bubs before he leaves. Tell Bruce where we’re at when he shows up, please.”
Rushing, eyeing Conner bouncing up and down at the door, I think I grab everything and head out right behind him, yelling bye to everyone.
“Ice skating place, please,” Conner tells the driver with sheer glee in his voice.
***
Bubs is a natural, whizzing around the rink like a pro. I, on the other hand, am watching from a booth in the concession stand, sitting discreetly on a bag of ice, which is no different than my many failed attempts at skating—my ass is magnetically attracted to the ice.
He waves frantically each time he goes by and when I drag out my phone to snap some pictures, I see missed texts from Cannon.
HH: Bruce confirmed we’re free, I booked Mon + Tues at Sark Pit.
HH: Get your laughs out now—his last name is Sark…he thinks it’s clever, like Shark Pit
HH: Where are we headed after that?
“Sister!” Conner bellows, sending me into action, tapping buttons like a madwoman to snap multiple pictures.
“I got your picture, Bubs, great job!” I yell back, watching him for a minute. It’s no surprise he’s doing great—like riding a bike—Conner always had athletic prowess. Seeing he’s fine, I return to my texts.
HH: No apt, huh? Do you sleep on bus during break? Where would you get a place if u were gonna? Indiana is beautiful country.
That was the last one. He could have asked Bruce, since he’s there with him, where we went next. I think he sent it to me to make it clear—he’s staying onboard, with me, thus the “we.”
Feeling spunky, I text him back. No, do over. I’m feeling downright Sirenesque, so I call him.
“If you’re being held hostage and can’t talk, beep once,” he answers.
I have got to start writing some of his quirky stuff down.
“No hostage situation,” I chuckle, “weirdo. What possibly made you say that?”
“You haven’t answered my texts in almost two hours. I was standing outside holding up tinfoil so the aliens would abduct me and take me to you.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh harder, and there may have been a snort thrown in as well. “You don’t believe in luck, but you believe in aliens?”
“Nah, not really. Besides, ten minutes of your sassy mouth and they’d drop you back off. So what are you guys doing? Having fun?”
“Conner’s having a blast. I’m the stoked spectator with the sore ass. Not much of an ice skater, it would seem. Oh Lord, hold on,” I cover the phone and pull it away from my mouth. “Bubs!” He looks at me and I shake my head no. “He’s too little, Conner, no spinning him!” I wait, making sure he listens, then get back to Cannon. “He’s got five little boys huddled around him, waiting for their turn to be spun around. Surely their mothers,” I glance around, looking for them, “know that’s a bad idea.”
“They wearing helmets and knee pads?”
“No.”
“Then yeah, stop him.” He laughs heartily. “When ya’ll coming back? Jarrett’s in the midst of a Vanessa telethon and Rhett’s still in bed. I’m bored as hell.”
“Feel free to clean,” I joke.
“Already did—spotless. I was thinking about using your laptop to look for an apartment if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all, you know that. Just don’t delete my porn. Wait, that’s no longer funny; don’t add any porn.”
“That was all Jarrett, I swear.”
“Uh huh, whatever, perv.” I snicker. I have no doubt whatsoever that Jarrett was indeed the mastermind of that little escapade. He always is.
“So, where should I apartment hunt?” His question is asked in a not quite seductive, but infinitely suggestive, tone.
“Why, oh, hang on.” I check the screen. “Cannon, it’s Conner’s dad. Lemme call you back.” I quickly switch over, now paranoid of messing up Bubs’ plans. “Hello?”
“Elizabeth, it’s your d—it’s uh, Richard,” he says.
“Yeah, I know. Where are you?”
“About two hours out.” He either drove all night or started very early, again shocking the shit outta me. “Where should I go exactly?”
I direct him accordingly, hanging up to go wrangle in Conner, which isn’t hard since he’s ecstatic when I tell him about the call.
A short cab ride later and we’re back at the bus, Conner flying up the steps and crashing through the door when Bruce opens it.
“Whoa, slow down, bud,” Bruce says. “Where’s the fire?”
“My dad is almost here! I gotta get my bag!” He sails past him toward his room.
“How long?” he asks me solemnly.
“Less than two hours,” I mutter, slumping down on the bench seat. “Where’re the boys?”
“Went to grab something to eat; hoping they hurry. I’m gonna disappear until your father does, for your and Conner’s sake. I know my limits and you kids don’t need an ugly scene.”
“Is he here?” Conner wails, running back in, bag banging into all in his path.
“Not yet, Bubs, little longer,” I giggle at him. “Give Uncle Bruce a hug bye, he’s gotta go do some stuff and it’ll be a while before you see him again.” I end on a slightly hoarse note, melancholy creeping in.
Conner swallows him up in a hug and I catch my uncle’s slight flinch. I hear ya; maybe he’ll pop your back and actually make it feel better instead of just squishing the life out of you.
Bruce takes off and the boys show back up about thirty minutes later, to find what must resemble a circus sideshow. Conner’s bouncing off the walls, quite literally, in uncontainable excitement and I’m a coiled up, ready to hiss, ball of anxiety.
“You probably won’t believe me, but I missed the hell out of you,” Cannon greets, hugging me to him.
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, fighting off his embrace. “And don’t try the ‘breathe in’ thing, it won’t work. Go,” I gasp as a tear falls and duck my head, “go say bye to Conner.”
“Precious girl,” he pities me, pissing me off further, “let’s go with them, fuck it! I don’t want you miserable. Let’s go to Hawaii, you can watch Conner and I’ll watch you.” He caresses my temple with his warm, soft lips, talking quietly to me. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’m in.”
“Liz, a little help here!” Rhett hollers from the back, giving me the excuse I need to walk away from this asinine, no-win conversation.
“Wha— Bubs, what are you doing?”
“Taking my fish,” he states, looking at me like I have two heads as he attempts a stealthy slide of the net behind his back. “Dad likes fish. He’s got a big tank!”
“I know, Con, but um…” Well shit, what do I say here? “I’ll miss ‘em if you take them. It’ll be my piece of you while you’re gone.” Not a lie, the last part anyway.
He’s gnawing on his lip, serious debate evident in his shuffling feet and flittering eyes. “Okay, Bethy, but do good taking care of them.”
My chuckle holds the hint of tears, which I force back. “I promise.”
The knock from the front and my back into the edge of the bedroom door—ou-motherfucking-ch—both happen simultaneously, Conner’s body slamming me harshly aside as he barrels to answer it.
“Shit,” Rhett rushes to me, “you all right?” He helps me get my footing and peeks around me, lifting up my shirt in
the back. “No blood, but you’ll feel it tomorrow.”
“Lizzie, your—” Cannon stops, either panicked or confused why Rhett’s lifting my shirt—no clear call. “What’s…uh, can I help with something?”
“Conner slammed her into the door when he ran by, hurt her back,” Rhett explains.
“Lemme see.” He pushes Rhett’s hand out of the way to survey it himself. “You need an ice pack, love?” he asks against my skin, where he kisses the, I’m assuming, either red or already black and blue spot.
“I’m fine, let’s get out there before he just takes him,” I grumble, walking past them both.
“Elizabeth,” my father, standing in my bus, greets me.
I ignore him and move straight to hug Alma, another mystery—wonderful person—who for some reason stays with him. “Alma,” I hug her, tearing up despite myself, “how are you?”
“My precious Elizabeth,” she coos, squeezing me back, ouch again. “How are you, my darling girl? So beautiful.” She leans back to pet my hair the same way she used to and I have to suppress a sigh.
“I’m fine. Miss you though. Are you joining them in Hawaii?” I shoot straight, locking on my father from the corner of my eye. Surely he knew I’d verify.
“I am.” She bobs her head and does a little clap. “I can’t wait! Finally a vacation.” She laughs and elbows Richard in the ribs.
“Mmm,” is his only response. “I said hello to the Foster boys, but I don’t believe I’ve met the young man standing guard behind you, daughter. Care to do the introductions?”
“I do care, actually. You don’t—”
“Cannon Blackwell.” He steps around me and offers his hand, but not without shooting me that “shame on you” look of his. Gonna have to work on that, we are indeed.
“Nice to meet you. Richard Carmichael. And this is Alma. She’s been with us since Conner was in diapers.”
“Pleasure.” Cannon smiles and takes her hand—and my sixty-year-old once-nanny blushes.
“I am ready!” Conner loudly demands back everyone’s attention. “Hug me, Sister, we’re outta here.”
If I don’t, does that mean he won’t really leave? I dismiss the silly thought and turn, wrapping myself around my brother. “I’ll miss you so much, Con. Please call me and send me pictures, okay? Stay close to the others and wear a life jacket if you swim and tell Alma if you need anything, and—”
“Bethy, I know!” he huffs good-naturedly. “I got my Bubcuff on, don’t worry. But don’t sing my song ‘til I get back, though, ‘cause it’s mine. And don’t kill my fish.”
“Got it.” I discretely sniffle and wipe my nose on his shirt—couldn’t be helped. “I love you more than anything in the whole world, Conner. Come back safe to me, soon.”
“Love you more, Sister.” He kisses all over my face, one last squeeze, then he’s bouncing off the bus. “Bye, Cannon!” he yells, meeting up with Rhett and Jarrett, who’d long ago slinked past the reunion and been waiting outside.
“Give me a hug, Elizabeth, I need to hurry after him.” Alma laughs, holding open her arms. “He will be fine, I give you my word,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. Please do some living for you.”
I can only nod, soaking up the comfort of the hug that I’ve missed for too long. I feel so much better hearing from her mouth that she’s going and will take care of Bubs. Her—I trust.
“I best go follow him. Nice to meet you, Cannon.” She waves, leaving the three of us alone.
“Here’s all the information on where we’ll be staying, flights and times, contact numbers.” He extends a file folder to me as if this is all a business transaction. “I appreciate you allowing this peacefully, and I give you my word, Elizabeth, that he will be well cared for and have a wonderful time.”
Cannon’s hand finds my shoulder and squeezes, letting me know he’s there, and instinctively, I reach up to hold it—my father’s eyes widening at the gesture.
“I meant what I said, too, about us perhaps sitting down and talking sometime. I am your father, and I do love you very much.”
“Will you be saying that after the ballots are counted?” I bite out, earning a harder squeeze from Cannon.
“If I drop out of the race right now, will you join me for dinner? Explain some of that hatred?”
“No.”
“I assumed as much. However, my answer is yes.”
Chapter 21
Cannon
If I could rewind but an hour, I’d have checked all Jarrett’s hiding spots and dumped the liquor. My little siren is two shots in and not taking kindly to my attempts at cutting her off, though getting shitfaced after the gig seems like the better plan.
In fact, if she doesn’t come out of the bathroom in the next five minutes, I’ll have no choice but to assume she passed out while getting ready and go in after her.
I know she misses Conner; hell, I miss him, too, and it’s only been a few hours, but she can’t spend two weeks in paranoid, self-destruct mode. I won’t let her. I’ll give her space, room to analyze, brew and boss all she wants…but other times, when she may not even realize it’s what she really needs, I’ll take her to the place where she doesn’t have to think, decide, solve—that will be my job.
“You got her?” Jarrett asks me, hitching his bass up higher on his back, kit bag in hand. “We’re gonna head on over.”
“Yeah, we’ll be right behind ya.”
Rhett hesitates, considering me with a heavy, assessing stare, before finally shaking his head slightly, a charitable grin taking over. “Good luck. She worships her brother. She might as well have lost her arms and legs—that’s what it feels like to her right now. You’re either man enough to handle her or not. But I’m betting on ya, Whistle Britches,” he sighs, patting my shoulder, “because I love her, and she’s betting on you too. She wants it to be you.”
“I got it,” I quip, though it comes out meaner than it should have. I’m glad she’s always had Rhett, but his work here is done. She’s mine now. Mine to love, fret over, console, and support in anything she needs, and the sooner he concedes, the smoother things will be. He can say he’s betting on me all he wants, but I can’t say as I believe him…until I do.
Jarrett graciously, subtly, coughs, drawing mine and Rhett’s thoughtful scowls apart and I turn my head, the air audibly whooshed from my body.
All of a sudden, there she is, emerging from the chrysalis that is apparently the bus bathroom, pushing all other thoughts to the wayside, the intoxicating creature that she is.
“Fuck me,” I manage past the barrage of emotions lumping in my throat, something not really meant to be spoken aloud.
“Not even with Rhett’s dick, but thanks for asking.” Jarrett slaps me on the shoulder with a chuckle. “But I hear ya. She’s something, all right.”
Her saunter toward me is tantalizingly, all the sexier because… I don’t even know. All I know is that I couldn’t look away if I tried, the mesmerizing sight of her redefining beauty. Her hair, back to a natural golden brown, is curled at the ends, pulled back from her sweet face to show off those huge, curiously vulnerable brown eyes. There’s some new smoky, dick beckoning thing going on with them tonight and her lips shine a little brighter with each slink closer.
She’s a short little thing, no doubt, but the black boots that may have a heel are as magical as they are bewilderingly mind-fucking because I swear her legs now go on for miles before sneaking under that barely there matching black skirt. I already knew she had glorious breasts, but that white tank she has on is seriously toying with my chivalry on dangerous levels, and the hot pink bra underneath, obviously meant to vibrantly tease all that God used to make a man a man is working like a charm.
Lizzie Carmichael’s a showstopper.
Words would undoubtedly fail me, so I crook my finger, begging her closer. Her eyes flick away briefly, then back, seeking mine out in unspoken need. The sound of the door closing confirms we’re
alone, the Foster boys mercifully turning tail and giving us a moment.
Her little pink tongue peeks out and glides back and forth nervously as she slowly makes her way to me and my fingers twitch in my clenched fists, begging to snag her up and never let go. But I deny them—she has to come willingly, on every level.
“Too much?” she asks in a soft whisper once she’s in front of me.
I shake my head, raking my eyes across every inch of her. “You’re beyond radiant. Exquisite. There’s no word worthy of you, really.”
“I, uh, well,” her sweet heads dips only just, “tried a little harder tonight, maybe. I don’t know.” There it is—the tiny, vulnerable peer up at me from underneath her lashes that sends shockwaves of protective, primal instincts through me. “Felt kinda free, sassy.”
That sweet pink glow spreading across her cheeks…damn. I’m gonna keep it there always, constantly reminding her she is coveted and adored. “You ready? I’m thinking ten seconds to say yes before I devour you right here.”
Her delicate, shy laugh bolsters everything male about me and I growl without conscience, stepping in to her.
“Need a little nibble,” I murmur, and unapologetically steal a few along her jawline, ending at her earlobe, then painfully force myself to pull away. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” I take her hand and intertwine our fingers, hers short and dainty, mine warm and strong, all trembling. “I’m only so strong.”
***
The show tonight is infinitely our best. See You Next Tuesday is on point, blowing the roof off the place! While Lizzie sincerely misses her brother, the liberation positively radiates off her. Without having to worry where Conner’s at every second, she transforms into this carefree spirit, relishing her time, the siren I’ve seen all along embracing it for herself…alive and captivating on stage tonight. Lizzie shines like her very own constellation, her voice heady and seductive, delectable little body swaying with an exotic energy that steals every set of eyes in the place. Especially mine.
I decided acting suggestively in any way on the first night Conner left might seem tacky and insensitive, but she’s more than welcome to come to me. And I’m picking up what’s she throwing down—long looks and subtle, sensuous brushes of her skin along mine—either I’ve lost my intuition or she’s receptive, ready. So the sooner I can tear her away from this table, celebratory drinks with Rhett and Jarrett, the better. I’m anxious to see how far she takes it. No matter what path she decides tonight holds, I want her to take the path all the way to the end, give me her all of anything, even if it’s just holding her (I pray all night), whispering all her stories on my chest, telling what she liked when she was a little girl, what she wants to name our children.
