I’m leaning forward in my seat as silence descends onto the dinner table, swirling around in thick fog around us as we wait for Fred to answer us, but he only presses his lips into a tight, thin line and lets out a long exhale.
“Chloe there is nothing for you to worry about it. May we finish dinner in peace.” He snatches the food on his fork in the blink of an eye like a ravenous animal.
Chloe ignores his response and continues to poke around, “I can understand if you’re scared or if there was money involved, but that wouldn’t provoke you to lie to me. Right, Dad?”
CLANG!
Fred’s fists, utensils still in hand, crash on top of the table, causing the plates and silverware to hop.
“Dad!”
Steam airs out of his ears, his nose and his mouth, “Chloe! Enough with the useless questions.”
Chloe’s eyes narrow as her nose and lips twist into a grimace, “What’s wrong with you?” She sits back with stern crossed arms, staring at her half-eaten plate.
With a heavy sigh, Fred turns to Chloe. He looks much smaller and defeated. “You girls don’t understand. Winston Blakesley owns this town. The truth will only get more people hurt.”
Wait. Winston Blakesley? I need to hear him say exactly what happened. It’s the only way, the only way I can accept it. “Not knowing isn’t any better, Mr. Winters. You need to tell me. She was my grandmother, and I can’t let her story end the way it did. Please tell me what happened if you know anything.”
He shakes his head, “There’s nothing left to say.”
“Mr. Winters please,” my voice is on the verge of breaking as my eyes cling onto his, desperately trying to pull strings of the truth out of him.
But he only shakes his head again, eating another bite. He continues to stab the diminishing pieces of food littered across the plate. Meanwhile, I’m a steaming kettle ready to burst, my blood boiling into oblivion. We are so close to the truth. Is this how Grandma Rachel’s story will end? She deserves to rest in peace, actual peace not tainted by the lies wrapped around her dead body right now.
I abruptly stand up and stare him square in the eyes, “Mr. Winters. If something terrible happened to my grandmother, I deserve to know, and she deserves peaceful sleep.”
Taken aback, Fred jumps in his seat, chest heaving intensely with every deep breath. He glances at Chloe, who eyes him curiously, then back at me. He hangs his head down then gives us one more pleading look. I think we’ve broken him down.
“All I know is that I was instructed to make her death look like an accident. I was paid in cash, and I wrote up another report, a different one. She actually died of-”
Chloe cuts him off, “We know how she died. Poisoning. We saw the original report. You’re not very good at hiding evidence, Dad.”
Fred looks down at his hands, embarrassed, “I’m sorry. I needed the money – for you, Chloe, for our family, our home. And you have to understand how dangerous this situation is. Rachel didn’t suddenly die of poisoning. Whoever was giving it to her did it over a long period of time. Cyanide poisoning is usually more recognizable, but this person was smart about it.”
Over a period of time? That means someone had to get close to her. They would’ve had to see her on a regular basis and look her in the eyes, hold conversations, eat with her… all while they knew she was dying, all while they were slowly killing her. And Fred keeps mentioning Winston Blakesley, Oliver and Caden’s dad. What if they are in on all of this? It would explain them being so secretive, never wanting to talk about business or their father with me. And now they are getting close to me. My head starts to spin. I can’t process this here. I need to leave. I abruptly stand up and excuse myself.
“I have to go.”
I trip over my chair but catch myself, stabilizing on the table. Chloe rises and tries to follow me, but I shake my head and make a quick exit. I burst through the front door and stumble my way to my car. The world around me blurs into a cyclone of swaying images. The ground beneath my feet is unstable, shifting around with every step, and I nearly fall over. I stretch my arms out, my hands reaching, until they touch my car. I get in and try to start the engine to go home, but I can’t. I lean back in my seat and take a breather. Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I learned a long time ago that crying gets you nowhere. What I need to do is act. If Oliver and Caden had anything to do with my grandmother’s death, I will make sure they pay for it.
Chapter 16 – Scarlet
The boys are coming over tonight. I have been ignoring them ever since I got back, thinking I could take some time for myself, but that did not work out in the slightest. I’ve invited them over for dinner to confront them, and I plan on using the two reports from Fred’s office. Getting slammed directly with the evidence, they’ll have to confess. That is… if they were involved. A big part of me is convinced that they were; there are too many coincidences. But the other part of me is hopeful, and I’m holding on to it with my life. Because even with this horrible knowledge coming to light, I still have feelings for them, these feelings that won’t go away, and I know when I see the two of them, I’ll want to jump into their arms. I can’t stand to have another person I love taken away. I’m falling in love with them. Yikes. I shake my head and throw away that feeling. It’s not a thought for right now.
I’ve set the table and dinner is ready. Now I’m simply waiting for the boys to arrive. They should be here soon. And with perfect timing, the doorbell rings. I stand up and smooth down my clothes. I have to lull them into a false sense of security before making my accusations. And I have to do it carefully. I want to believe they would never hurt me, but, at this point, I don’t know that. Don’t trust things at face value.
I go to the front entrance, take a deep breath and then open the door. Over the past couple weeks, I’d convinced myself that Caden and Oliver weren’t that attractive, but seeing them in the doorway… all my hard work to believe that goes out the window with how beautifully they’re standing in front of me.
“Come in.”
I step aside and they both step in. Neither one of them is in a suit; instead, they are casually dressed for dinner. I want to slowly undress them and feel the weight of their bodies against mine. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and I could use another dose of the Blakesley boys. What I actually do is step around them, being careful not to touch either one. “Dinner’s already on the table. We can start eating.”
They nod and follow me to the dining table. Their mood seems somber. There’s no way for me to tell why, and I’m not in a headspace to ask. I need to stay focused on my main task.
Once we’re all seated, no one talks. I know something is going on with me, but what could possibly be going on with them? No one is eating. There’s a bite here and there, but we’re all pushing our food around for the most part.
I glance up from my plate and try to catch their eyes, but both of them are dancing around their plates with their forks. I start tapping mine at the edge of my plate without realizing it as I turn my head and prop my elbow on the table, resting my cheek on my hand. Then they both look up at me at the same time, and I can feel them burning at me. The tapping stops as I shift my eyes at them. My mouth twists to the side, waiting for someone to say something, but neither of them does.
Outside, we can hear cars whizzing by, driving up and down the street.
Kids are chattering alongside the echo sound of a basketball bouncing off the ground.
The blinds are knocking against the sill from wind blowing through the window.
In synchronicity, both of their watches tick down every slow crawling second that passes.
Caden clears his throat. “The food is good.”
“Thank you,” I smile politely.
He smiles back and smoothens out the napkin on his lap.
“How have you been doing?” I guess it’s Oliver’s turn to venture a try.
“I’ve been okay,” I look at him, and his eyes loo
k so sad, almost drooping down to his frowning lips. “How about you guys?”
Caden nods his head in response, “Things have been okay.” He steals a glance from Oliver then they both resume staring off into the void of their nearly untouched plates. Before long, Oliver puts his fork down and finally tries to get to the heart of all the tension,
“Scarlet, Caden and I actually have something we need to tell you…” That doesn’t sound good. “It has to do with Rachel.” That sounds even worse. Are they about to confess without any probing? It can’t be that easy.
“What is it?” I do my best to sound clueless. They don’t need to know that I have some ideas already.
“We came across some vital information, and for the last week, Caden and I have been debating if we should tell you about our suspicions. At this point, that is all they are, suspicions. We don’t have any proof. Just a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to one thing that, frankly, we both can’t believe. Then again… I’m not surprised. I mean, I can’t put anything past Winston-”
Caden drops his fork and interrupts, “We think our dad did something to Rachel. Like he had something to do with her death. We don’t have proof. I mean, she had a stroke. But something seems fishy, and we wanted to let you know. Our dad is… we don’t trust him.” He then turns to Oliver and says, “Sorry for interrupting. I could feel you getting off track, and we needed to get this out of the way.”
They both look at me, and I can see the apprehension on their faces. For the moment, I am shocked. Shocked but also relieved. Their father is the one who hurt my grandmother. Winston Blakesley. I don’t have many memories of him, but I do remember that he was intimidating. Not to mention sinister. But not Caden and Oliver. They simply got stuck in the middle. I can’t believe I suspected them, but it doesn’t matter now. I know who has to be punished.
“Scarlet?” Caden’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. I didn’t realize I hadn’t said anything after they dropped that bombshell on me. They must be worried I’ve suffered some kind of brain freeze or something.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s just- you said you didn’t have any proof?”
The two of them nod. “Yeah. It’s more of a feeling. Plus, the way he’s been acting and some of his past actions suggest our father’s capable of something like this.” Oliver’s words strike me. What it must have been like, growing up with a dad like Winston. He must have done horrible things for his sons to think he could’ve murdered someone. I can’t even imagine it.
“Wait here a second. I’ll be right back.” I get up and head into the kitchen. Originally I planned on dropping the reports on the table at dessert time. Chloe helped me plan it out. We even had an escape plan ready in case things went sideways. I go back to the dining room where the boys have patiently waited and slap the folder in front of them. “It’s not enough to prove your father did anything, but it should help a little.”
Oliver opens it up and picks up the autopsy report. He skims it and says, “But this says ‘stroke.’ I don’t understand.”
Caden grabbed the second one and he chimes in, “Wait. This report says ‘poison.’ There were two reports?” The boys look up at me, questions in their eyes.
“Yeah. Your dad bribed Fred Winters to do another autopsy report that attributed natural causes to Rachel’s death. But that poison report is dated the day after her death, giving it more validity.”
Caden slams his fist on the table, making me jump. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles. He looks at Oliver, angry and sad. “So, he really did it. Winston killed her?”
“It would seem so. We should’ve watched him more closely. I mean, his sudden interest in Rachel, how he was being a lot more hands-on, visiting her. He never works that hard for these kinds of sales. We know what he’s capable of, and we did nothing. Like every other time, we let him do whatever he wants and now someone is dead. God dammit!”
The two of them talk about how they are responsible, and it dawns on me that I also have some culpability. I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve thought this. When I was under the impression Grandma Rachel had a stroke, I felt somewhat responsible since I hadn’t seen her in years, but now it’s even worse. She was lonely and people picked up on that; Winston Blakesley picked up on that. He visited her and worked to make her comfortable around him so he could sneak cyanide into her system. If I had kept in touch, she wouldn’t have craved the companionship of other people. I could’ve been there for her, making her feel better. I could’ve protected her, and now she’s gone forever.
“It’s all my fault.”
Caden and Oliver stop talking when they hear me whisper that. And it’s beyond true. All I had to do was be a better person.
“It’s all my fault.” I fall on my knees onto the floor. My body can’t handle standing anymore.
Both of them kneel beside me. They’re talking to me with words of comfort I assume, but all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears as I fall apart. My head sinks into someone’s chest and I begin to cry. I’d been holding back my tears for so long, and now they come flooding out. I’m not just crying for Grandma Rachel but for all the years of heartache and sadness. Not only the sadness that I’ve experienced but the sadness that I caused. Someone’s arm wraps around me, pulling me further into his chest. Another hand gently caresses my hair. After a few moments, my crying stops, and I pull myself into a straighter sitting position. Turns out I was crying into Oliver’s sweater, and now it’s covered in my tears. I wipe my nose with a sniffle.
“Sorry about that,” I point to the mess I’ve left on his sweater.
He stretches the hem to get a better look at it. “It’s really no big deal. I mean, I can just…” Oliver takes his sweater off and throws it on the floor. I can’t help but laugh at his hasty display.
Not to be outdone, Caden says, “Well, you can’t be the only shirtless one,” and he takes off his sweater too. Now I’m sandwiched between two exposed, sexy men, and ideas are starting to fill into my head.
Chapter 17 – Oliver
I don’t know what possessed me to remove my shirt. It was a somber moment, the thought popped into my head, so I did it. Caden followed suit, making it even more ridiculous. Scarlet is looking back and forth between the two of us, and I’m not sure if she’s into the fact the Caden and I have entered a state of undress.
“Why are you guys being so nice to me?”
“Because we like you.” Caden answers that one. “And we’ve become invested in your happiness.” I let out a laugh at Caden’s little addendum. He is known for phrasing things awkwardly, and now is no exception. The two of us had this discussion, that our feelings for Scarlet are intensifying, but we’re also both afraid to say anything. Our relationship is a precarious one, and we don’t want to do something to jeopardize it. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Scarlet looks down at her lap and starts to fiddle with her hands. “I- I don’t know. There was just so much going on and I wasn’t sure if-”
“Why don’t we show you how much we like you?” I suggest. She looks up at me, an expression full of questions. She nods, and I tell her, “Come over here,” indicating my lap. She scoots over and straddles my lap.
“Is this okay?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I don’t say anything but instead run my hands up her thighs. Scarlet places her hands on my shoulders as if she’s preparing herself. At this point, I notice Caden has left the room. It’s sometimes creepy how quiet he can be, but I don’t put much thought towards it. Instead, I keep my attention on Scarlet,
“Let’s move to the island.”
Scarlet nods again and tries to stand up, but I hold onto her.
“I can carry you there.” I stand up, and Scarlet’s grip instinctually tightens. Her legs are wrapped around my torso with her chin rested on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to drop you.”
“I’m not worried. I just want to be sure.”
I feel her warm breath on my back, and I r
ush over to the island so I can get started on showing her how much I like her. I place her down gently, and she disentangles her limbs from my body. Once she’s sat down, she also notices Caden’s absence and comments, “Where did Caden go?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably getting something ready or doing whatever it is Caden does.” I’m actually a little surprised he left, but I trust my brother. “But we should get back to you. Any requests?”
Scarlet shakes her head, “A kiss would be nice.”
I position myself squarely between her legs and place both of my hands on either side of her face. As I’m kissing her, I hear some footsteps, which means Caden wants us to know he’s back. We stop kissing, and Caden is on the other side of the island, something in his hand.
“Where’d you go off to?”
Caden has a mischievous smile on his face. “I thought maybe we could try something a little different. I remember when we were in the mountains, Miss Scarlet Russell had a bit of a penchant for taking control, and I thought we could hand over the reins tonight.” Caden holds up his hands, and in them are two pairs of handcuffs. “Let you be in complete control. What do you think?”
Scarlet turns back to me, and I can tell she wants to but there’s hesitation.
“Is something wrong?”
Scarlet takes a few seconds to think and then answers, “No, it’s fine. Why don’t you the two of you go sit at the dining table? I’ll be there in a second, okay?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Caden and I leave the kitchen so Scarlet can prepare herself. She doesn’t seem to be listening in on us, so I whisper to him, “Did you get those from the car?”
Caden gives me another secretive smile. “Yeah.”
“So, you went outside shirtless?”
Caden takes a second, nods and responds, “Yeah.”
“You’re such a weirdo. It’s so cold outside.”
Caden laughs. He’s more reckless than me, but it often leads to amusing situations. We sit next to one another at the dining table, waiting for Scarlet.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 49
