by Lexi Ryan
“But it helps,” she says softly. “Having money means you didn’t have to make as many ‘shit decisions’ as I did. And my parents? They might have been alive, but—” She shoots up out of her chair. “Dammit, I don’t want to do this.”
I catch up to her at the French doors and press my hand against the glass before she can open them. Frustration ticks in my jaw. Fear of losing her churns my stomach. I’m sick of everything being left unsaid between us and too scared of the answers to demand the truth. “You don’t want to do what?”
She turns to face me, leaving her body between me and the door, my hands blocking her in on either side. “I don’t want to play the who-had-the-worst-childhood game.”
“That’s not what I was doing. You just shut me down every time the past comes up, like I’m incapable of understanding what your life was like after you left.”
She scoffs. “Like you’re an open book about yours?”
“Try me.”
“You and Maggie were together.” It’s not a question.
“Briefly.” I don’t want to go there. Not with Cally. But if this is the conversation she needs to have in order to open up to me, so be it.
“She still cares about you. She’s worried I’m going to hurt you. Again.”
“I’m a big boy. I don’t need Maggie looking out for me.”
“But she does.” Her hand slowly rises to touch my face, and I stay perfectly still, resisting the urge to turn a kiss into her palm. Resisting the urge to kiss her until we have both forgotten this conversation and are thinking only of each other’s bodies. “And then you married her sister Krystal.”
She caught up fast. But what do I expect? This is New Hope. There are no secrets here. If anything, I should be surprised she had to come all the way back to New Hope for the grapevine to deliver the news. “Krystal and I were never officially married.” Not that we didn’t get way too fucking close for comfort. Stupid on my part. “It seemed like the right decision at the time, but it didn’t work out, and that was for the best.”
“But they’re all so protective of you. You’re not the bad guy to them.”
“I screwed up. They’ve forgiven me.”
Her eyes dip to my mouth before lifting to connect with mine. “Which part was the screw up?”
I ball my hands into fists, resisting the urge to touch her. “All of it. Both of them.”
“Yeah, you’re an open book, alright.”
“Jesus? Is that what you want? You want to know where I fucked up? You’ll show me yours if I show you mine? Is that it? What are you so desperate to hide from me?”
“We all have parts of ourselves we don’t want anyone to see.”
I drag a hand through my hair and turn away from her. Because she’s right. And I can’t look her in the eyes while I confess my life’s biggest failure. “After I went to college, Maggie…she needed me.”
“The poor little rich girl needed you? I’m sure she did.”
“It’s not mine to tell, Cally, but I can tell you I fucked up. She came to me, she needed help, and I put her back on a bus and sent her home.”
“You weren’t responsible for her. A college student, you were barely more than a kid yourself.”
And I was hung up on a girl who dumped me for a rich asshole at least fifteen years older than me. I hang my head. “It doesn’t matter. She was terrified, and I sent her right back into the fray.”
“What fray?” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand what could have been so bad. The maid didn’t clean her room well enough? Not enough boys falling at her feet?”
She’s trying to pick a fight, but I won’t take the bait. “Exactly. You don’t understand. You aren’t the only one who’s had to make shit decisions, and neither am I. When I realized what I’d inadvertently done, I couldn’t forgive myself. I was obsessed with protecting her, and when I came back home from grad school, that obsession turned into something else.”
“You fell in love with her.”
I shrug. “I loved her. That doesn’t mean it was a healthy love.”
“Then Krystal?”
“Krystal picked up the pieces when Maggie left me. She loved me and she wanted all the same things I wanted. She made me forget that I’d lost Maggie.”
“And Krystal? Did you love her?”
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have put a ring on her finger if I didn’t.”
“But Maggie had just left you. You poor thing, so broken-hearted you only needed two-point-five seconds to fall for her sister. Was it that easy for you to get over me too?” I turn, and she’s thrown her hand over her mouth. Regret pulling at her features. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Because you already know the answer.”
“I’m not so different than Maggie,” she whispers. “You always wanted to save me. To fix me and my broken family. Hell, look at us now. You’re just coming to the rescue again.”
“I can help and I want to. What’s wrong with that?”
“I want more.”
She can have more. She can have anything. Everything. “Then it’s yours.”
She tilts her chin, looking up at her stars again. “I don’t want to be rescued. Been there. Done that. Lived with the self-loathing.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want a man who’s just as saved by my love as I am by his.” She lifts her shoulders. “Someday. But I don’t need it. All I need now is to help my sisters and get by.”
“I’m sick of you dancing around your past.”
I don’t really expect her to reveal anything, so I’m surprised when she speaks. “Mom’s love affair with Vicodin became an obsession. She was too stoned to even give twenty-dollar hand jobs anymore.”
I flinch. “Cally….”
“We got food stamps, but she’d sell them for drugs. A hundred dollars that was supposed to buy my sisters and me dinner became a handful of precious pills for her.” Her eyes fill and she looks away from me. “Within a month of moving to Vegas, I got a job, two jobs, but it was never enough. And then I’d talk to you, and you were planning for college and picking out the car your grandmother was going to buy you for a graduation gift. You lived in a completely different universe than me, and I couldn’t handle it.”
I take her shoulders and turn her to look at me. “I wish you would have told me. I could have helped. I could have—”
“What?” She laughs. A cold, hollow sound that doesn’t hold an ounce of humor. She pushes at my chest, and I back up and drop my arms. “What would you have been able to do? Send money? And then keep sending money? An eighteen-year-old boy responsible for supporting a family of four? Mom would have had your trust fund cleaned out before you even finished college.”
“I don’t care about the fucking money. I would have given it all up for you.”
“I loved you,” she whispers. “I loved you enough to let you go. That’s the truth. Someday soon I’ll have to do it again, and it will still be the truth, even if you can’t accept it.”
I wrap my arms around her and crush her against me, holding on too tight because I’m terrified of what will happen if I let go. “Don’t. I need you to believe again. I need you to be brave. You hold on to me, and I’ll hold on to you.”
She clings to me, her hands wrapped around my biceps as she lifts to her toes and presses her mouth to mine. I hold her tight, pouring everything I feel into the kiss until all the tension has drained out of her body. “I can’t stay,” she murmurs. “This is only for now. It can’t be forever. Please don’t ask me for something I can’t give.”
I don’t answer, don’t let myself think about what she’s leaving me for—or whom. I scoop her off her feet and carry her to my bed. I undress her slowly, exploring her body with hands and mouth. When I slide into her, she clings to me, cries her pleasure into my neck. I make her come again and again, taking everything she offers from her body since she won’t give me her heart.
IN THE last month, the l
eaves have turned, days have cooled, and I feel like we’re racing toward the end of my time in New Hope. Every day I stay is another day I’m risking Brandon returning. He promised me two months, but the promise of a selfish man means nothing, and I would be smart to leave now.
Life has been deceptively good since the girls and I moved back into Dad’s. William and I go to football games and cheer on his alma mater, and then he takes me back to his house and makes love to me. I insist our affair is temporary, but I can tell he thinks he can change my mind.
Dad has settled into his role as primary care provider for the girls, and though money hasn’t been easy, there’s been enough that I’ve been able to put some back for my new life. Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and this morning William told me he wants us to host a dinner for our friends and families at his house. I need to disappear before Thanksgiving, so his plans only fill me with despair. He misunderstood my reaction and teased me about my lack of cooking skills until we were both laughing away my fears. Then he spent the rest of the morning making love to me.
Each day, I find myself counting down the minutes of my workday, anxious to get home to William, to savor these last days together. Today is no different.
But first I have to finish with this client. This is the third time in as many weeks that Carl York has been in for a massage. Normally that wouldn’t bother me. The fact that he’s mentioned his wife leaving him and how lonely he is at least ten times leaves me a little uneasy. But I shrug off the feeling.
“That’s our hour.” I reposition the sheets to cover his chest. “Take your time, and I’ll meet you in the waiting area.”
He moans. “When’s your next client? I’d like to add thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” This is something I usually don’t allow unless the client makes arrangements before we start, but I’m available, and as much as I need the money, it’s foolish to say no. “I could do another thirty. Is there an area you want me to focus on?”
Before I realize he’s grabbed my hand, he’s pressing it onto his hard-on over the sheet. “Right there, baby.”
I slam my fist down on his dick, then twist around to bend his to the back of his hand. “Bitch!” he cries.
I release him and step back, queasiness churning my belly. “We’re done, Mr. York. But if you ever try anything like that again, I’ll be doing some deep tissue work on your balls. Understood?”
He rolls to his side and draws his knees up to his stomach, moaning. Fucking asshole deserves it. I’ll go back to living on peanut butter sandwiches and invite rats to be my roomies before I work with a guy who treats me like that.
I turn to leave but when I reach the door, his words stop me. “Don’t act so fucking righteous. I know who you are. I checked up on you. You want to act like you’re better than your mama, but I know the truth.”
When I leave the room, I’m shaking. I don’t want to be here when Carl leaves, so I exit the apartment and go out into the gallery’s loft reception area. Maggie shoots me a worried look from the couch where she’s tapping away at her laptop. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile. “Yeah. Everything is fine. I just—”
I run to the sink and vomit, heaving and heaving until my stomach is wrung dry and my mouth tastes like bile.
“Yeah, you’re downright peachy,” Maggie mutters. I hear her getting up, but I don’t look. I need to compose myself. I’ve been practicing massage professionally for almost four years, and I’ve never had anyone try anything like that. But none of my clients knew about my past. None of them knew I once sold myself to keep my sisters off the street.
I rinse out my mouth and clean out the sink, but even then I leave the water running. The sound gives me the illusion of privacy I need right now.
When I finally turn it off and turn around, Maggie’s leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. “Carl York? Seriously, you let that piece of shit on your massage table?”
I plaster on a smile. “Made a good impression on you too, did he? Is he still here?”
“He’s gone and not very happy with you. What happened?”
“He wanted me to jack him off. Pushed my fucking hand onto his hard-on.”
Maggie’s breath leaves her in a rush. “That’s assault, Cally. You need to call the cops, file charges.”
I shake my head. “That’s the last thing my business needs. I can’t take that sort of hit.” Not now. Not when I’m stockpiling as much cash as I can so I can start a new life.
“It’s exactly what your business needs. File charges when some asshole pulls that shit. That sends a message loud and clear about what kind of business you run. You have to make sure people know that’s not what you’re about.”
“And why is that?” I lift my chin and feel all the anger that’s been simmering inside me for the last fifteen minutes rise up. “Does the spa by campus have to make sure their clients know they aren’t there to give ‘happy endings’? Why am I any different?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“I want to know. Why is it different for me? Because I’m poor, so my massage practice is really just a front for my real specialty of giving hand jobs? Is that what people think? Or maybe they think that because my mom felt like it was what she had to do, I’ll feel the same way?”
Her eyes go sad. “Just because what people think about you isn’t fair doesn’t mean they won’t think it. Trust me. I know.”
“What do you know?” I laugh, and it sounds so empty, so miserable. “You’re a Thompson. You have money and influence. Everyone in this town loves you guys.”
Her face changes and the sympathy in her eyes is replaced with something else. Something harder. “Nobody cared that I was a Thompson when they found out the sheriff was fucking me. I was fifteen, and he was cheating on his wife. With me. The fact that I said no was just a technicality to people around here. He left town, and some people saw what he did for what it was—a man with power over me, a much older man, using that power to fulfill his own sick desires. Some people got that. They got that I was a victim. They got that even when you have a crush on your dad’s best friend and wear tight shirts around him, no still means no.” She shrugs. “But others? Others never got that. You weren’t here to see a good portion of this town turn against me because of the sins of a grown man, but it happened, and don’t you dare tell me that I don’t get it just because my family has money.”
My throat is thick with shame and embarrassment. Not only am I being as judgmental as everyone else, I should have known better. This was what William was talking about when he said he failed Maggie. This is the part he wasn’t telling me. “Jesus, Maggie. I had no idea.”
Her shoulders rise on a long inhale and her expression softens. “It’s better now, but I had to stop allowing them define who I am. You’re going to have to do the same thing. Don’t let what they think about your mother influence the way you see yourself. Your mom did stuff for money, but you’re better than that.”
I blink at her, stepping back until my shoulder hits the wall. “My mom did what she had to do.” I just didn’t understand that until I was pushed into the same corner. At least she called the shots when she sold out.
“I don’t know one way or the other,” Maggie says. “But it doesn’t matter what she did or didn’t do. The truth is irrelevant to some people. They believe what they want. Especially assholes like Carl who are just looking for an excuse.”
“Don’t tell William about what happened today.”
She chews on her lower lip for a moment, studying me. “I think that would be a mistake.”
“I won’t take another appointment from Carl. It’ll be fine. Please?”
She crosses her arms, disapproval clear in her eyes. “It’s not mine to tell, but think about what I said, okay?”
I don’t know what Will would do if he found out about what happened tonight, but I’m sure that, like Maggie, he’d want me to file charges. But I can’t tell anyone what Carl did because
I’m too terrified he’ll share what he knows about me.
“Maggie, what does Carl do for a living?”
“He’s some sort of PI, I think. Pics of husbands cheating on their wives, that kind of thing.”
I swallow and make myself ask, “Do you have any idea who might have hired him to find something out about me?”
Maggie frowns. “Who would do that?”
But I already know the answer.
“You want to act like you’re better than your mama, but I know the truth.”
If someone hired a private investigator to look into my past, it won’t be long before William finds out what I haven’t had to courage to tell him. I got caught and sent to juvie when I met with the second man Anthony sent me to. I have no doubt that’s how Carl York found out the truth. I assumed my juvenile record would be sealed, but I wasn’t so lucky. When I was arrested for breaking and entering at nineteen, the court decided not to seal it. I had a box of jewelry in one of Brandon’s homes that I was trying to get to after he was sentenced. Only it wasn’t his house anymore, and I got caught.
Was I ever going to tell William the truth about my first years in Vegas? Or was I hoping my past would just disappear if I wished hard enough?
I know what I need to do, and when I leave my massage studio I go straight to my car. There’s no question in my mind who hired Carl, and I need to make sure she lets me tell William the truth before she can.
Venus Salon is a swanky place by campus where all the sorority girls get their hair foiled and nails painted. The place is bustling on this Friday night, with every chair in the salon occupied and several people in the waiting area.
I’m two steps inside the doors when I spot Meredith.
She crosses her arms around her middle at the sight of me, hugging herself as she approaches. “Can I help you?”
All eyes are on us. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”
Her jaw is hard, her disgust with me all over her face, as if my presence repulses her. “Fine. Follow me.”
We cut through the salon. The stylists stop working and stare as us as I follow her back to the office. I could swear I hear one of them mutter “Home wrecker” as I step into the office.
