“Mom,” she whines. I shake my head, giving her a warning with my eyes.
There’s a TV playing a football game, but the sound is turned down too low to be audible.
Shawn enters through another opening at the back of the room. It’s the same type of wide entrance, sans a door, we just walked through. He comes to stand in front of a recliner as Shane walks around the coffee table to stand in front of the couch but doesn’t sit.
Shawn first looks at his brother then his eyes cut to me. There is no emotion on his face. Now that I see him in a lit room, and from a distance, he seems larger than when I was pressed against him earlier tonight. A little scarier even. But something makes the tension in my head lessen. Something also tells me I’m going to like him. Like he could be a friend.
Hmmm. Interesting.
His dark eyes drop to Emersyn lying in my arms as he brings a Corona to his lips. Everly brushes against my side, coming from standing behind me. Sometimes she shy in front of people she doesn’t know.
There’s an intake of breath beside him—Taralynn. I didn’t see her enter the room, but when I look over, her eyes bug from their sockets. I don’t have to guess, she’s looking at Everly.
Damn. Is it really that noticeable?
Shawn stops mid sip, staring at her too. Finally, he lowers the beer bottle, slowly letting it drop to his side. “Oh, my hel—”
“Hold up, Shawn.” Shane raises his palm, indicating he wants his brother to shut up.
Once he’s sure Shawn isn’t going to say anything else, he turns to face my daughter. His daughter. “Everly, I’m Shane.” He takes the same hand he used to stop Shawn from finishing his sentence and holds it out in front of her. She looks up at me. I nod, giving her my approval, and then she extends her slender arm, placing her palm into his. My breath catches in my throat, but I force the air out despite the clog.
Shane’s torn, but he’s doing a decent job to cover it. Those eyes that match Everly’s glance down to where their hands are enclosed in each other’s.
“You’re cold again, aren’t you?” he asks her. She nods in quick succession. Shane looks to me, releasing her hand as he does, “Does she have more clothes?” He inserts his hands into his blue-jean pockets.
“No.” I shake my head. “I rushed and didn’t grab her overnight bag.”
He twists his head to the others in the room. Taralynn speaks up. “Whatever she needs, I’m sure I have something that’ll work.” She cringe-smiles. And I think she’s unsure of what’s going to happen. Hell, I’m unsure too.
I move closer to Shane, placing my hand on his forearm. It’s warm, firm, and the spark I felt earlier ignites once again, all from a single touch. I like the fire between us, and by the look on Shane’s face, I can see he feels the same way too. It’s weird feeling this connected to someone I just met, especially since I can’t remember ever feeling this way before. Is that crazy? Something deep inside me thinks it’s not crazy.
“Are we . . . are we staying here tonight?” I don’t want to make assumptions, but I have two girls that need sleep. And I don’t have anything—no purse, no cell, no money. In the escape, I forgot to grab my things. My purse I left in Blake’s car, but I had my phone. Now I feel stupid for laying it on the kitchen island in Gavin’s house right before I walked outside. I’m at Shane’s mercy. And I still need answers. I’m sure he does too so . . .
“Yeah.” He looks away, looking at his brother. Shawn tips his head up, silently giving him the okay I’m guessing.
“My old room is vacant, with a bed. Oh, and Matt is out of town, and Mase is in Orlando, so those are both options as well.”
This house is large, so it makes sense Shawn and his girlfriend would have roommates. They seem younger than Shane and myself. Maybe they’re still in college. We are in Oxford, so maybe they all attend Ole Miss.
“Thanks,” Shane replies. Then he looks down at his watch. I, in turn, look around for a clock. I know it’s gotta be late. Spotting one on the wall, I see it’s a few minutes after eleven. Jesus. My kids should have been asleep hours ago. And they were when I got them from my parents. Luckily the little one doesn’t seem to be fazed. Then again, I think this child could sleep through an earthquake.
“Why don’t I take the girls upstairs,” Taralynn offers. “I can get Everly some clothes and then get them settled while you guys talk.” She walks toward me. “Is that okay?”
“I—yeah, it’s fine. Thank you.”
“Mom.” Everly pulls on the thin material of my dress.
“It’s fine, Ev. I’ll be up in a bit. I promise.” I glance down at her, forcing a warm smile on my face. “This is my friend, Taralynn,” I tell her, hoping she buys it. I don’t know these people. But saying that feels wrong. They seem to know me after all.
Turning to Taralynn, I introduce her to my youngest daughter, “Her name is Emersyn, but we call her Em mostly, so that’s fine too.” I place my daughter in her hands, but her eyes bug even more than they did a few minutes ago. Alarm flickers through me. Looking at the two brothers, I see the same shock. Shawn’s eyes flair as he grasps onto Shane’s shoulder. “What did I say?”
“I’ll get the girls upstairs. You talk to Shane, okay?” Taralynn walks away, carrying Emersyn toward the front where I remember seeing the stairs leading to the second floor when we walked in the house.
“Go ahead, Ev. She’ll get you some warmer clothes, or since you’re going to sleep, it’s fine if you just want to sleep in your pj’s.”
Everly looks behind me, eyeing Shane briefly before turning to follow Taralynn.
Does she see it? Surely not. She’s too young to put all that together. At least I think she is.
When they’re out of earshot, I turn around to face the guys. “Okay, spill it. What now?”
Shawn speaks. “Emerson is Shane’s middle name. It seems you’ve named both of your kids after him.”
“Both?” I cock my head in Shane’s direction.
How can this be? How did I name Everly after him? I don’t even remember him.
“Now’s not the time, Shawn,” He says, sighing. Shane looks worn out as if he’s aged since I first laid eyes on him tonight.
“No, I think now is as good as any time. Tell me.” I left me husband wanting answers. I’m getting those answers.
He pulls up his T-shirt, and as he does so, my eyes roam up his lean abdomen taking in tanned skin over ripples of flesh, finally stopping just over his pectorals. I don’t have a chance to fully appreciate the sight in front of me when my eyes land on a tattoo. Over his heart is a script that says, foreverly after. It takes me longer than it should but then I see it and chills break out over my arms. Everly.
My eyes skim down. On his side, in larger script, is my name. Whitney. The name is in black ink with small, blue flowers that look so alive on his skin. The flowers make the tattoo pop. It’s beautiful and causes my heart to swell, but I can’t focus on that right now choosing to ignore the warmth coursing through my veins to ask the question sitting on the tip of my tongue. “What does foreverly after mean?”
“It’s what I used to say to you instead of happily ever after. It was just . . .” He trails off, not finishing his thought. I decide not to press him anymore.
“I think we should call mom,” Shawn’s deep voice pulls me away from Shane. Glancing over, he’s eyeing his brother.
“Of course you do. You always call mom at the slightest adult situation that arises.” Shane sighs again, and then he falls onto the couch behind him. A breath whooshes out of his mouth.
Sitting down sounds like a good idea to me too. My legs are wobbly as it is. I’m not sure how much more information I can take. Yet, I want to know everything.
Finally, there’s someone willing to be more than vague with me about my past. Only now . . .
“I do not,” Shawn argues.
“You do.” Shane looks at me. There is longing in his eyes, and as much as I want to go to him, I stay put. My body,
on the other hand, doesn’t agree with my head. I have this insatiable urge to touch him. It’s need. I recognize it.
“Can I have one of those?” I ask, interrupting their spat. I point to the beer Shawn seems to have forgotten that’s still in his hand.
“Sure.” He pivots, leaving the room.
“I, uh . . . hell, I don’t know.” I walk over. “May I sit?” I ask.
“Of course.” He scoots to the far end of the couch, and I take the empty space at the other end.
“Where do we go from here?”
“I wish I knew.” He shakes his head. “I wish I knew, Love.” He faces me. “You still don’t remember me, do you?”
I shake my head. It’s the truth, but at this moment, I wish I did. I wish I could make that sad look disappear. It doesn’t belong on his beautiful face.
A beer is placed in my hand. I down it in seconds. Oddly enough, another is jutted out in front of me. I greedily take it too.
I want to remember.
I need to remember.
For him. For my daughter. For me.
CHAPTER NINE
Shane Braden
“What you wanna bet this has to do with you?” Shawn flashes his ringing cell phone at me. Chance’s name is displaying on the screen. His finger swipes across the screen. “Hello.”
Chance’s voice sounds further away as it comes through the phone’s speaker, and it has me wondering if he’s calling while driving his motorcycle. He does it often. I’ve told him countless times to stop doing that. He does it often, even after Trent’s death. It only pisses me off more when he calls me while riding his motorcycle. He can argue all he wants that there’s nothing wrong about it or unsafe, but he’s wrong.
“You talked to your brother tonight?”
“Yeah,” Shawn drawls out.
“What the fuck’s going on then?” The wind against his machine makes it sound like he’s in a tunnel. “It’s true? Whitney’s with him?”
Whit whips her head toward me with her eyebrows drawn tight as she listens to the call.
“I guess you could say that.”
“You guess or you know, motherfucker?” I shake my head. “Because Kylie is blowing up Eve’s phone. Eve’s blowing up mine, talking about flying to Mississippi. That dickhead won’t answer anybody’s calls, and I had to cancel on one of my regulars to come home to calm Eve down. So give me some straight fucking answers.”
“She’s here. He’s here too. But Shane’s dealing with some major fucking shit right now. They both are. Maybe y’all could give him some breathing room, yeah?”
“Maybe the motherfucker could answer a goddamn phone.”
“You don’t know what he’s dealing with. Give him some room. He’ll call you guys when he’s ready.”
“Fuck that. This isn’t just somebody we went to high school with that didn’t mean shit. This is Whitney, man. She was one of Eve’s best friends. One of mine too,” he barks. “Maybe you were too young to remember—” Shawn’s quick to cut him off. His face turns heated.
“He’s my goddamn brother. And yeah I fucking remember too. I was there when my mom told him she was dead, fuckface.” Whitney gasps, pulling in air through her mouth. And I’ve had all I can take. I reach, snatching the phone from Shawn’s ear, earning a glare from him that clearly tells me he wanted to give Chance more of a piece of his mind.
I take the call off speaker, shoving the chair back as I stand.
“I’m here, and you’re a fucking ass, you know that?” I lay into him. “And stop talking on your phone while you’re riding your motorcycle.”
“It’s coming through my helmet, douchebag.”
“I don’t care. We’re done until you stop riding.” I hang up, ending the call before he can say another word. “I gotta call Kylie before she loses it. And Eve, too apparently. Can you fill her in on who that was?” My brother nods. I glance at Whitney before I leave the kitchen. “I’ll be out on the back patio if you need me.”
“Okay.”
Once I’m out the door, I call Kylie’s number. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, but she deserves answers. The little I have anyway.
“Shawn?” she answers.
“Nah, it’s me.”
She’s silent, and it helps me to get my thoughts straight. I take a seat on the small outdoor couch that’s pushed up against the house, and I lean my head back, resting it against the brick.
“She’s here,” I start with. “But she still doesn’t remember any of us.” I pause, remembering what Whitney said during the car ride. “Well, she may be remembering you. She said she pictured pom-poms after I got off the phone with you earlier.”
She’s still quiet.
“But, uh.” My voice cracks. “Ky.” I choke up then I hear the air Kylie blows out of her mouth from the other end of the line. “There’s something else.”
How do I tell my best friend I have a daughter I never knew about? I’m not sure I’ve fully comprehended it myself.
“What is it?” she asks me, frustration evident in her voice. When I don’t say anything, she speaks again, “Just tell me, Shane.”
“She has a daughter.”
“I know that. You told me that months ago. I’m so sorry, Shaney.”
“No, Ky. She has another daughter. A nine-year-old—I’m guessing.” There’s silence once again as she takes in my words. There’s no way for me to brace her, so I just say it. “A nine-year-old with my eyes”—she gasps—“the same color hair as mine.” I blow out air. “The same everything. She’s my daughter, Kylie.”
“Oh, Shane. I-I don’t even know what to say to that,” she sniffs. “I’m coming home. I don’t care about my job. This is so much—”
“No.” I’m more forceful with my tone than I should be. “You can’t. But I get it, so why don’t you fly up on the two days you have off next week.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“I’m not letting her go anywhere. I’m not letting them go anywhere. She’ll be here when you get here.”
The phone beeps with an incoming call. Taking it away from my ear, I look to see who it is. Chance Manning.
“What do you need right now?” I can hear Kylie’s sweet voice even with the cell phone in front of my face. I put it back against my ear. “I gotta do something.”
“Will you call our bastard friends in Vegas and fill them in?” She half laughs but it quickly dies.
“Sure. I can do that. But I can’t promise Eve won’t call you. You know, Eve.”
“Yeah, I do. Chance already called Shawn’s cell. That’s why I’m on it, but I didn’t tell him much. He was . . .” I leave that hanging, knowing she’ll pick up on it. Trent’s death is still too heavy for the both of us. “And I wanted to tell you first.”
“Thanks. I’ll deal with them. And I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Thank you.”
I drop the phone, letting it land on the cushion next to me and I just stair up at the sky. What did I do to deserve not only Whitney to be taken from me but my daughter too?
When I finished my conversation with Kylie an hour ago, Whitney wasn’t where I’d left her and my brother. Taralynn told me she had gone upstairs to check on the girls. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I needed a minute of reprieve. So, against Shawn and Taralynn’s wishes, I headed up the stairs and went to Matt’s room.
Apparently, he’s in California until next week. I think I remember Taralynn mentioning his parents moved back there when he left for college. He and Taralynn became friends in junior high when his parents uprooted him and moved to Tupelo. I’ve noticed the two of them haven’t been close in the last year and I’m not sure why.
Movement brings me from my thoughts. My head rolls down from where it was resting against the headboard.
Love. She’s standing in the doorway I purposely left open hoping she would see me in here.
“Everly is finally asleep.” She crosses her arms, then leans against the doorfra
me. “That’s where I went when you walked outside to talk to your friend.”
“You know she’s mine, right? Like, you don’t just think there’s a chance. You see it, don’t you?” I sit up. My right leg falls off the edge of the bed, but I don’t care. I leave it there. It helps anchor me.
“I’d say it’s . . . clear.” She pushes off the door, walking inside. She stops in front of the dresser and looks around, taking in the room until her violet eyes land on me. She braces her hands, cupping the edge of the dresser then leans against it. “Can we . . .” She bites the side of her bottom lip. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah.” I glance down at my hands lying between my legs. Glancing back up I say, “I’d liked that.”
“Can we start with the past?” Her eyebrows furrow. “I’m really trying to wrap my head around you being my daughter’s father and not . . . Blake.”
I grunt, shaking my head.
“I’m trying to wrap my mind around you being married to that dirtbag. You couldn’t stand him,” I force out.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Let’s start there, all right? Please,” she stresses, pushing off the dark wood of the dresser. She comes closer. “May I sit?” She points to the corner of the bed furthest from me.
“Of course.” I take a deep breath, relaxing a little as she gets closer to me—closer to where she belongs. “And yeah, we can start with that, but, Whit,” I pause, staring at her. “She’s mine. I’m not losing another day with her.”
She just nods. And even though she doesn’t say she agrees with me, I can tell she feels the commitment behind my declaration.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
“Everything.” She sits on the bed, crossing her legs together, facing me. “Tell me about myself. The me I don’t know.”
I bang my head on the headboard as I lean back. I look directly at her, so there’s no way for her to misconstrue what I say. “She was mine. She was mine from the moment I laid eyes on her, and she was mine until she was taken away in an ambulance.”
More Than Memories: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 7
