by F. X. Scully
"You need a time out," Sheila is saying. But her voice is far away, like she's at the end of a tunnel. "I'm right fucking here," she says. "How about you ask me, what happened? You ever think of that? How about some fucking respect?"
Roscoe's recovered from my rage now and as he stands in the middle of the room, pulling on his jeans, I realize he wasn't naked at all. Only almost. He pulls on his t-shirt next. His gaze burns through me and I instantly feel like shit. But then I don't. Then I remember what I saw. And I glare at them both.
"What happened here?"
Sheila is the first to respond. But she doesn't speak to me. "Go on, Ross," she says. "Luke and I have things to discuss."
Roscoe pushes past me, bumping my shoulder and sending me into instant rage. I grab his collar and yank him toward me.
"Luke!" Sheila tries to get between us, but I box her out.
"I'm done," I say between clenched teeth." I turn a hard gaze on Sheila. "With both of you."
Her mouth opens and her face begins to crumple. Ross pushes me off and I stumble backwards.
"I didn't sleep with her." I turn to Sheila, my voice is shaking and no matter how hard I try I can't control it. "I told you didn't. I swore to you and you come in here and..." I can feel the heart beats in my head now and I turn slowly to face my brother again. "I never wanted this. I did it all for you. You know that. But now I'm done with all your shit. Keep your band and your record deal. Keep her for all I care. Enjoy this fucked up immature life. I'm done."
My brother shrugs his t-shirt straight and walks quietly toward the door. When he reaches the threshold, he throws over his shoulder, "If you think you'll be better off without me, be my guest."
I'm still breathing hard when he slams the door behind him and when I turn to face Sheila, I'm taken aback by the anger on her face.
After what they did?
"I know," Sheila says. "About Shannon. About everything. Why would you keep that from me?"
And just like that, I'm eating my words.
"I'm sorry." My gaze meets hers but there's only a tiny part of me that feels any actual remorse. After what I just saw, I'm almost relieved.
"So that's it?" Sheila whispers. "You don't even give me a chance to explain? After everything?"
"What's to explain?" I ask. "Apparently we all live in a fucking soap opera." I shake my head. "I always thought there was something between you and my brother. He doesn't make friends with girls. He fucks them." My gaze shifts toward the bed. "But you already know that."
"Luke—"
"Come with me."
"What? We can leave together, like we did last time. If this," I gesture toward the bed, "was nothing, then come with me."
It doesn't make any fucking sense. If anything, it'll only make my life complicated. But I can't think straight. The only thing I can think about is making him pay for this. He slept with my girl. And even if they didn't have sex. What I just saw was more than enough to prove how he really feels about her. My own brother. He has to pay.
She frowns. "My leaving with you wouldn't prove a thing. And definitely wouldn't make things any better between us. You dated Shannon. And lied about it."
"And you've got a crush on my brother."
She rolls her eyes and it only makes me feel like a fool.
"This is where I want to be," she says. "This is my dream. And I'm not giving it up for anyone."
I laugh. "You're choosing the band over me."
"I wish you would stay," she whispers. "It won't be the same without you. But life doesn't work that way. And things are the way they're supposed to be. I guess they're just the way they were meant to be all along."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you need to talk to my sister."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shannon
My heart pumps out a violent rhythm and blood rushes to my head, which isn't helping with the massive hangover. I lean my head back against my seat and close my eyes. As predicted, this trip was a mistake. But not entirely. I peer through the rearview mirror and watch as Lucas closes the door to the house behind him.
I don't know why I agreed to drive him back to Lewiston. It's crazy. Not to mention reckless. I could barely keep my hands off him last night. Sure, I was drunk and my inhibitions were low, but that doesn't change how I feel. How I've always felt.
I should have said no. I could have. But looking at him now, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, brow wrinkled and eyes dark, I couldn't resist him if I tried. We haven't talked in so long. And I want to know what's on his mind. I want to get to the bottom of the shadow in his eyes. I want things to be like they used to be. For those few incredible days when it was just the two of us. Even if it's just for those few hours in the car, before I have to tell him a truth that could blow everything up.
"Hey, thanks for this," he says as he settles into the passenger's seat.
"No problem."
Neither of us has spoken a word about last night and I'm still not sure what happened between him and Sheila. But I haven't seen her all morning. When Lucas asked me for a ride home, I agreed only because of the clear line of tension between he and his brother. They pretty much glared at each other for a good twenty minutes in the kitchen. No wonder he's dying to get out of there.
I want to ask him if he's okay, but it's not like I don't already know the answer. He's out a girlfriend and band. His life turned upside down in one night. Just like mine.
The dial has been stuck on American Family Radio ever since I drove my grandmother to Portland two years ago and all I have for the tape deck is Billy Ray Cyrus and Brooks & Dunn. I'm pretty sure he won't be into either, so we spend the first hour in absolute silence. After he falls asleep, I'm so bored I give up, and pop in a mix-tape Sheila made for my birthday.
I've been belting out the words to Celine Dion's If You Asked Me To, tapping out the rhythm on the steering wheel with not a care in the world—until it ends. In the space between that and the beginning of PM Dawn's I'd Die Without You, I hear a chuckle and jump nearly swerving off the road when I realize he's watching me.
"Lucas. Hey, you're up. I was just...trying to keep myself awake."
"And me too maybe?" He rubs his eyes and I focus on the road. "You're doing a damn good job."
I clear my throat, then reach to turn down the volume. But he only turns it back up.
"I like this song. The other one too," he says with a snicker. "You could give that woman a run for her money."
I roll my eyes. "Please."
He adjusts himself in his seat, his gaze burning into the side of my face. "Thanks for the drive back. I really appreciate it. And...I'm—"
"It's okay. We were drunk. Things happen," I say. "You don't have to apologize."
"Good, because I wasn't going to."
I tighten my grip on the wheel, my gaze shifting to the clock. Another two and a half hours of this. How am I going to last?
"I was just thinking," he continues, "we could use this time to catch up. What have you been up to? I mean, besides falling for other guys and having babies."
I force a smile, then a little shrug. "I got into the PharmD program. But I'm not going. I can't, with a baby and all. But I'm still working at that drug store in Pullman. I live on my own now. But you know that. You were there."
"Yeah, I was." He laughs lightly. "That was the most awkward thing I've ever experienced. Your parents looked like they wanted to kill me and then you walked out of the bathroom and I kind of wanted them to."
I chuckle. "Yeah, things got pretty weird for a while there."
"So, your boyfriend, he's the same guy from the dinner?"
I nod.
"He treat you well?"
I nod again. I don't know why I'm keeping up yet another charade. I shoot a glance in his direction. "He's a good guy."
"David Baker. Your first kiss. Who'd've thought?"
I raise my eyebrows. "How'd you...?"
"You told me, up on
the rooftop remember? He was your prom date. Your high school boyfriend."
I laugh. "You remembered."
"Of course. I just can't believe he knocked you up. How'd that go over with your parents? I can't imagine well."
"Actually just the opposite. They love him to death."
Lucas lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, damn. I guess most people judge based on appearances. This guy gets you pregnant, but he looks like a church boy so all's forgiven. I've got a few tattoos and they could barely stand to watch me with your sister. Seems fair," he adds with a bitter chuckle.
"It's more complicated than that," I reply. "They've known Dave for a long time and...you took Sheila away from them. At least that's how they see it."
"Well they'll be happy to know her leaving had nothing to do with me. Sheila only has one love. Music."
A part of me actually feels bad for him for ever getting involved with either one of us. His life will never be the same. And it's only just begun. I'm only about to turn this poor guy's world on its axis.
We drive in silence for another few minutes before I ask, "You really care about her, don't you?"
He seems to expect the question. "Yes. I did. I do. I cared about you too. I guess there's something about the Carlson sisters."
"I guess," I reply in a quiet voice.
Lucas reaches over and turns up the music. Blasting Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit—a Sheila pick and the only song on this tape I can't stand.
Ten Hours Later
I'd never been more relieved to be alone in my life. The first few days in this apartment had been lonely ones. I craved for the few hours a week I spent in Dave's company. But tonight, I couldn't have been more happy to just sit here in nothing but a t-shirt and tube socks, my baby in the other room sound asleep, a tray of brownies on the chair beside me, a pint of ice cream in my lap.
And I shouldn't be surprised my own version of peace didn't last.
Currently, I'm crouched on top of the kitchen table, the phone pressed up against my ear, doing my best not to scream at the top of my lungs.
There's a rat. Not a cute little mouse I can ignore until morning, only being annoyed by scratching noises. A freaking hairy, kitten-sized rat with a tail so long and skinny it sends shivers through my body every time it moves.
I'm going to die and leave my baby an orphan. I'm going to end up dying of a heart attack right here on the kitchen table in nothing but a t-shirt and tube socks while chocolate ice cream melts all over my living room carpet.
Dave won't answer his phone. I've called a million times, but it just keeps going to voicemail. I could call Mom, but she wouldn't be any less freaked out than me.
"Please, Ray. Just sleep, baby. Don't wake up. Please, please don't wake up." I don't know which would be worse, sharing a floor with a nasty rat or leaving my baby to cry.
I could call Dad. But that would come with a lecture about the house I gave up. Not to mention he'd see me in my underwear. I can handle that from Dave, he'd be kind enough to look the other way and laugh it off later. But Dad would be shocked and he'd scold me about that too. Or about living in a place where rats can come and go as they please.
What am I going to do? Oh, god. What the hell am I—?
My gaze shoots to the piece of paper sticking to the fridge.
No. No way. I can't. Not so soon.
Not hours after I've dropped him off. He'll think I'm making it up. My luck the rat will leave before he gets here. Then I'll just be standing there half naked like I'm trying to seduce him or something.
Uh, uh.
The furry little bastard starts making a weird clicking sound and it looks like its eyes are vibrating. I'm sure it's ready to attack me any second and I've made up my mind. I don't care what he thinks, I'm calling Lucas.
When he arrives twenty minutes later, I'm so surprised and relieved that I can't even speak. He takes one look at me, perched up on the table, doing my best to cover my bare legs, and shakes his head.
"Why do you have a rat if you can't handle it when he escapes?" he asks.
"It's not mine," I cry. "Look at that thing. Do you really think I'd bring that in here intentionally? It must have come from the sewers or something."
"Right because there's a whole community of sewer rats in Palouse." He laughs and bends over, scooping up the disgusting rodent without a care in the world.
"How'd you get here so fast?"
"I was on my way to Pullman." He smiles. "Ice cream."
"But I called you at home."
"On my mobile phone."
“You have a mobile phone?”
He smiles. “That thing’s a life-saver. Clearly.” He brings the rat closer to his face. "Bet you one of your neighbors is missing a pet. This thing didn't come from outside. Look how clean it is."
He steps forward and I put up a hand. "Are you serious right now? Get that thing away from me, please."
He shrugs and heads toward the entrance. "I'll go knock on doors."
"Thanks," I mumble.
"And I know this isn't exactly a bad neighborhood, but seeing as you have a baby and you live alone, you should probably get rid of the hide-a-key, too." He glances back over his shoulder. "And wear some pants."
The second he's gone, I go the living room to seize my late night snack. After I've cleaned up the sticky mess on the carpet, I head to my room in search of slightly less embarrassing lounge clothes. I hear the door close when he returns a few minutes later and I'm suddenly wracked with the question of how I'm going to get rid of him, when he just saved my ass. I can't exactly ask him to leave. Maybe I should offer him something to drink or eat. But will that make him want to stay longer? Maybe I should just stay in my room and he'll eventually get the hint and leave.
I locate a pair of tights and pull them over my legs. As I'm struggling to hook up my bra, I hear the telltale signs of motherhood.
Crap.
So much for a quiet night. But at least it's an excuse to send Lucas packing. I pull a loose fitting tank top over my head. Then, deciding it's still showing too much cleavage, I grab my UI sweatshirt, just in case. My hair's a complete mess and even though it shouldn't matter, I smooth it down, wet my lips and head toward Ray's room.
When I get there, the door is ajar and he's making those cute sucking sounds he does when he's being pampered—held in just the right way.
My heart springs into my throat and I push the door open all the way. Lucas is standing there bouncing Ray in his arms. I freeze, unsure of how to react. That is until I see Lucas's face.
You'd expect someone holding a baby to be like putty, smiling and cooing. Instead, his eyes flash as he looks from Ray back to me. He holds him close to his chest, which is heaving up and down so rapidly I'm afraid he's going to start screaming. But in a voice as calm and cool as ever he asks me, "What the hell did you do?"
Luke
I recall the baby pictures Mom used to keep in the top drawer of the living room armoire. But the memory is all I have. After the trial, after they left me, I was so angry I burned them. Anything that reminded me of either of them, I destroyed. I probably would have burned the house down if Roscoe hadn't showed up when he did.
I glance back down at the baby. My baby. I knew it the second I looked at him. Because he looks just like I did. It's like staring at those pictures all over again.
I'm so angry with her, I don't know what to do with myself. I've just been sitting in this room, staring at him and thinking. About everything. The day I met her. The first time I kissed her. The first time we hooked up. The day I realized I was falling for her. And the moment she told me we were nothing. Then her sister. Last night. Now this.
How could she—why would she—do this? Lie about something so big?
The baby sighs and when I glance down, his lips—full and pink just like his mother's—are pursed and he starts making a rapid kissing noise. A few seconds later he farts, sighs again and balls his hands into little fists. It's the funniest
thing I've ever seen and I can't help but laugh to myself.
"Are you going to stay in there forever?"
I don't bother turning to acknowledge her. I can't even stand the thought of talking to her let alone staring into those eyes that aren't nearly as innocent as they look.
"I'm tired," she continues. "I'm...I'm going to bed. And...just let me know when you're leaving so I can lock—"
"I'm not," I say. "Leaving. Not yet. Go to sleep. We'll be fine."
"Um...okay. If you need anything—"
"I don't."
"Lucas, I'm sorry. I didn't want—"
"Not now," I snap. The baby starts in his sleep and I lower my voice, finally turning to look at her. "I don't want to talk about this now. I'm still trying to...process."
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her and I just stare. Down at my son. There are tears in my eyes before I can stop them and the feeling in my chest is so warm, it feels like I've been submerged in a bath.
I stand back and cover my face with my hands. I can't believe it. This can't be happening. There is no way this is real. Any second now, I'll wake up, back in my room at the ranch. Or better yet, back in my room in Lewiston and everything—this entire past year will be nothing but a dream—or a nightmare.
I lower my head to smell him and close my eyes. No, this is definitely a dream.
I always wanted a son—the opportunity to outdo my own father. The chance to start my life over. I've wanted this forever. A family, a new life. And here it is. It just pops up when I'm not even looking.
The entire time I've been standing here, from the moment I figured out what was what, I never once thought of leaving. Of running out the door and never looking back. The second I looked into this kid's eyes, I knew we were connected. That he was mine and I was his. I know this is where I belong.
I dry my eyes and take a deep breath. There's only one thing to do now. No matter how rash it is, I recognize the next step. I know what I have to do.
She's sitting on the edge of her bed, when I push the door open. She stares at me, wide-eyed as I close it behind me and cross the room to stand in front of her. And as I stare back all the feelings from earlier disappear. I wanted to yell at her, shake her even. Figure out why the hell she'd lie about something so important.
