Babyjacked
Page 20
“I didn’t know Emma would take it,” I said. “And I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“Rem…”
“She found my stash at her house while I crashed on her couch. And she got pissed. Raged at me. She took it away. I thought she was trying to get me clean, but I was pissed. I hated what I’d become. How weak I was. I knew better than to go near an Oxy addict with that shit, but…”
Cassi sunk against the counter, her words a whisper. “Rem, it’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is.” I glanced to the kids. “That’s why I had to take the girls. It was my fault their mother got as bad as she did. I had to do something to make up for the past.”
“Then stay with them. Be a part of their lives. Just love them, Rem. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
But nothing I ever did would be right for those kids.
I knew it. The Paynes knew it. The town knew it.
Cassi was the only one who couldn’t see it.
So I knew what had to be done. To protect them. To protect her.
Cassi deserved the truth. All of it. Why I ran. What I’d done. Who I’d protected.
Even if it hurt everyone and destroyed everything.
A lie spared her pain.
The truth would be unforgivable.
And both would forever deny me the woman I loved.
18
Cassi
Without the kids, the cabin was silent.
No TV. No laughter. No annoyingly shrill iPad game that tweeted birds and flashed lights and prompted a toddler to bang you over the head with the device when the batteries died.
Worst of all?
It was quiet. It was peaceful.
It was lonely.
So incredibly lonely.
Made worse by Rem as he’d completely isolated himself from the pain after a quick hug and kiss outside the courthouse.
He’d bagged the girls things in the middle of the night, packed Em’s car while we talked on the steps, and declined the chance to go to her house for a celebratory pizza lunch.
As if he couldn’t stand to look at the kids. Or his sister.
Or me.
For two days, he’d hidden away in the workshop, obsessing over a project no one had ordered and he hadn’t let me see.
He was pulling away.
It wasn’t even subtle.
Something had flicked in his head. That trigger to run when it got tough, to hide when his feelings were exposed, and to avoid any opportunity to forgive himself and his past.
Whatever that past was.
Whatever other secrets he’d refused to tell me.
Trust was hard to give when I’d already been burned by this man. But if he didn’t trust himself, if he thought so little of his character and soul, then how was I to help him?
Or to protect myself?
I knew better than to let Remington Marshall back into my heart.
Problem was…he’d always been there.
Night had fallen before Rem came back to the house to eat. He rummaged in the fridge, emerged with a juice box, and stared at the little cartoon critter on the carton. Mellie had refused to touch the reduced sugar apple juice until Rem doodled funny faces on the cartoon apples. He stared at a buck-toothed smiley, gripped it tight…
Then silently threw it in the garbage.
“Haven’t seen you all day.” I lowered my phone and tried to meet his gaze. Didn’t work. “Marius is doing well. The doctors say it’ll be a couple weeks, but they’re already thinking about the prosthetic.”
“Good.”
He gave me nothing else.
“They have a family house near Walter Reed—for long-term recovery patients. Might be something we could do until he’s ready to come home.”
“You gonna go?”
I hadn’t decided yet. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
Rem opened a beer but didn’t drink. He leaned against the sink, staring out the window into the night. “Got a call from a buddy at the logging site.”
“In Canada?”
“Yeah.”
My stomach dropped. “What’d he say?”
“Job’s there if I want it.”
“All the way across the continent?”
“Yeah.”
Everything soured. Rem said nothing else. Without the Disney movies or baby cooing or constant toddler jabber, nothing silenced my anger.
I ground my teeth. “Think that will be far enough?”
He glanced at me. “From what?”
“From whatever it is that’s terrifying you.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Sure, you are.” I gave up, pushing away from the counter. “You’re afraid of doing what’s right.”
He caught me before I left the room, but I batted his hand away. Rem stared, his chestnut eyes dark and flat, as if he hadn’t slept at all. Maybe he hadn’t. Certainly hadn’t touched me. Or kissed me. Or Held me. Not for two nights.
“I know you’re hurting.” My honesty stung. “I’m hurting too. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
It would have been funny if it wasn’t so damned tragic. “I think you said that five years ago too.”
“Let it go, Cas. What’s done is done.”
“That’s not true. If it were done, then all these feelings and questions would be resolved. But they’re not.”
It was his turn to walk away. I didn’t let him out the door.
“What the hell happened to you, Rem? What changed to make you this way?”
If he took offense, he didn’t show it. “This is who I am. Who I’ve always been.”
“You’re lying to me. You’ve been lying to me. Everything you’ve ever done is a lie.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you, Cassi. Did all I could to prevent it.”
“Hiding things is hurting me. Not trusting me is hurting me. You didn’t tell me about Em’s problem. You didn’t tell me about the court date.” And he still didn’t react. “It’s like you’re so damn terrified to get close to me.”
Rem looked away. “You know how I feel about you.”
“And it never mattered. You were always going to run. The first chance you got, you were going to bolt out that door and out of my life. As soon as you got rid of the girls, you’d planned to leave.”
Silence. The accusation hung heavy in the air.
And he didn’t deny it.
“I can’t stay here,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It’s happening again.” I hated these words. “You’re shutting down, Rem. You would destroy everything we have so you don’t need to face those feelings.”
“What do we have?” Rem’s resigned whisper killed me. “Honestly. What future can I give you?”
My heart refused to break twice.
The pieces just fell back into the gaping pit that was my foolishness.
“I’m not good for you, Cassi.”
He’d been saying it—repeating it—chanting it like a self-deprecating mantra for a week.
I didn’t believe it. Hell, I wasn’t even sure he believed it.
But there it was. Ripping us apart.
Stealing minute after minute, hour after hour, year after year of our happiness.
“You think you’re a bad influence on the kids?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You will. Give it time.”
He sounded like everyone else. Everyone who’d refused to give him a chance, who couldn’t see beyond the reputation. They’d all warned me to stay away from him. To never sneak out to meet him. To do all I could to never fall for him.
Maybe they were right.
My father never forgave him. Jules refused to try. Even Tidus had freaked when I’d accidentally revealed our relationship.
If the entire
town of Butterpond could read Rem for the bastard that he was, and if Rem insisted that he was as terrible as they said…
Maybe they weren’t the blind ones.
Maybe I was the only fool stupid enough to think I could change him.
Except I still didn’t believe a single word.
He’d lied before. What was stopping him from lying now?
“You haven’t been honest with me since the day I stepped foot in this cabin,” I said. “Since the day I came here loaded with boxes, stunned that a man like you would even consider opening his home for those little girls.”
Rem nodded. “I told you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t listen.” I sucked in a breath. “And that was my choice. I let myself get close. I let myself think I could resist you and deny my feelings and not wonder about all the time we lost.”
His voice lowered. “It’s my fault. I chased you. I hoped…it’d be different.”
“You know what I think?” I didn’t wait for his answer. “I think it was a mistake that you left me then, and it’d be even bigger one to go now.”
“Why?”
“Something hurt you, Rem. You needed help then, and I couldn’t give it. But I can help you now—and you can help me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Take me with you.”
“What?”
“Take me with you. Wherever you’re going. Me and you. We’ll be together. Start a new life.”
Rem rubbed his face, suddenly exhausted and pained. “Cassi, I’m trying to make this easy on you.”
“You always take the easy way out, Rem. This time, I’m doing it too. I’ve wanted to get away from Butterpond for months now. What better opportunity than now?” The hope in my voice destroyed me. “We could go together, stay together. Just…be together.”
“You can’t,” he said.
“Why?”
“What the hell are you running from?” His words sharpened. “Jesus, Cas. You’ve got family here. Friends. Your entire life. You love them, they love you. Don’t take that for granted.”
“You think you aren’t loved?”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
“You know my family loved you like another son.” I swallowed, hard. “You know that I love you.”
Rem knew how to twist the knife. “You shouldn’t.”
“That’s my problem.”
“I’m not a good man.”
“And I’m a foolish woman who thinks five years apart was long enough. Don’t make it any longer.”
Rem crossed his arms. His eyes darkened, studying me.
Tearing through me.
“You’d really come with me?” Rem asked.
“In a heartbeat.”
“All the way to the Canadian wilderness?”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Leave Butterpond? Pack up. Start a new life.”
“Of course.”
He stepped closer, a thin smile on his lips. “Yeah? What about Marius?”
A gut punch. I sucked in a breath that did nothing to suppress the guilt.
“Who’s gonna take care of Marius?” he whispered. “Who will take care of the rest of your brothers? They got no one now. No idea what to do with their lives. How they’re supposed to start a life on the farm none of them wanted.” Rem knew he was right, and it made him insufferable. “Yeah, they’re gonna fight. And they’ll get pissed off. And they’ll make mistakes. But it’s worth the effort to forgive them.”
“They’re adults. They can handle themselves.” Even I hardly believed it. My chest heaved. Tight. Aching. “And Marius…he can get a nurse or someone to watch over him…”
“Cassi, you’ve already made your choice.”
Rem reached for me, brushing a hand against my cheek. I didn’t push him away, even when the tears teased over his fingers.
“I know you’re staying,” he said. “You would never leave your brothers. Not when you want to protect them. That’s what you do. Protect. Care. Love. And that’s the reason I run. If I want to protect the ones I love from what I’ve done, then the only thing I can do is leave.”
“Saying it doesn’t make it true, Rem.”
“You wanted me to be honest. So I’m honest.”
“No.” I pulled away and dried my cheeks with my hands. “You’ve never been honest a day in your life, Rem. You’re hiding secrets. You’re telling lies. One day you might be honest with me, but it won’t matter then. Not if you refuse to be honest with yourself.”
The worst part of breaking up wasn’t losing the man I loved.
It was knowing that no matter how hard I’d tried, how many days would pass, and how many times I’d cursed his name, I’d never get over him.
Heartbreak wasn’t fair the first go round.
This time, I didn’t have much of a heart left.
19
Rem
Beer didn’t taste good unless Cassi took a swig first, scrunched her nose, and demanded an IPA.
Great women loved their shitty beer.
I hadn’t been blackout drunk in four years. Figured now was the time to give it a go. Christen one bad decision with a worse one.
I’d rather be drunk and alone than sober and ruining the lives of the people I loved.
I hated the cabin now. Too quiet. Too dark. Too many rooms and too many little memories. Cassi’s ponytail holder in the bathroom. Mellie’s forgotten shoe in a closet. Tabby’s unnoticed milk dribbe on the back of the couch.
Didn’t need to find traces of them in my house. I couldn’t get them out of my head. My body was on Tabby’s schedule—breakfast, play, lunch, nap, dinner, bath time, bed time, and then peace. Mellie’s stupid clean-up song played on loop in my brain, clawing through useful thoughts like where to measure the cut and how to fit the joist.
And Cassi…
I hurt everywhere. Head. Heart. Body.
Five years ago, I learned the past could hurt. Humiliation hurt. Resentment hurt. Regret hurt.
Now?
The future would be just as painful.
So I hid in the workshop—from myself, from her memory, from everything and anything—and I found absolutely no relief. No hiding from this shame. All I could do was work it away. Finish my project. Head back to the logging camp. Grow the beard out again. And just…
Stay far away.
Running could solve any problem. The further I ran, the easier it’d be to start over. To forget what I gave up. To ignore who I’d hurt.
For the first time, it seemed like a shit idea.
Three beer bottles lined up at my feet, and I cautiously sketched a measurement on the section of timber. Something this important had to be measured precisely, and not just because it was the only thing in my world that mattered anymore, but because of who would use it. Each piece needed to be exact, every line, every angle, every potential side she could touch.
The timber lined with the saw blade, but my phone rang before I could make the cut.
Wouldn’t have been the first time I considered tossing my phone onto the band saw.
Emma’s name blazed on the screen. If it were anyone else, I’d have let it go. Something honorable must have remained in me.
I answered with a grunt. “Hey.”
Emma practically vibrated with energy, blitzing through the phone and jabbering with a manic enthusiasm.
Should I have been worried?
Or maybe that’s how Emma sounded when she was happy and healthy?
“So you aren’t coming over for dinner?” Emma asked.
It was easier that way. “No.”
“The kids miss you.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“I’m making you a plate.”
In the background, Tabby began to fuss. Her high-pitched, pay-attention-I’m-not-dying-but-goddamn-it-someone-better-take-care-of-this-shit cry.
Emma sighed. “This baby. She’s awfully opinionated.”
“What’s wrong?”
I ignored that. “She’s saying that her socks are crooked.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t like it if her socks turn around. Fix her socks, she’ll stop fussing.”
“That’s crazy.”
“She’s your kid.”
“Why don’t you come over and eat?”
I stood, stepping over the rest of the timber. The project’s frame now waited for the final few pieces. I needed another beer before I could look at it again.
“I’m not in a family dinner mood,” I said.
“You used to love them.”
“Yeah. When I ate at the Paynes.”
“So why can’t the Marshalls start their own tradition?”
That’d be easy. “What are you making?”
“Brinner.”
There was all the evidence I needed. “Brinner?”
“Yeah. Pancakes. Bacon. Sunny side up eggs.”
Mellie would never sit at that table. “You gotta scramble them.”
“So you will come over?”
“No, but you gotta scramble the eggs.”
“Why?”
“Because Mellie doesn’t like her food looking at her. Sunny side up to her is like the Eye of Sauron to the fucking hobbits. She won’t go near it.”
Emma’s tone shifted. “Anything else I should know about my children?”
Plenty, and nothing that I could list off. Wasn’t like I had a running tally of the foods they loved—strawberries, pineapple, and chicken nuggets. Or the foods they hated—spinach, spaghetti with any white sauce, and beef that wasn’t ground up. Or the stories they liked before bed—Elmo fine, Doctor Seuss’s Marvin K Mooney Will You Please Go Home had been torn up in a bout of rage.
Bath time required bubbles and no less than two toys.
Play time demanded access to both crayons and a bouncy ball.
Mellie fell asleep immediately in the car. Tabby needed to be cuddled late at night on the couch before bed.
I’d learned so much. Personality quirks. Likes, dislikes, things that scared them, things that made them giggle.
And those girls loved to giggle.