Sliver of Truth (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Book 3)

by Jody Kaye

  My brother looks at me with utter disbelief. “Fuck, I’ve never seen you stand up for anyone before like this, Cece.” He rubs his cheek. “You’re falling in love with Dusty.”

  “How long does it take to fall out of love?” I whisper, crestfallen. Dusty’s feelings for me changed on a dime. I won’t be so fortunate.

  “I don’t know, sis. It’s not the same and we might not see Mom and Dad, but the kid I was hasn’t managed to stop loving the parents he thought he had. After reality sets in, I guess there are always people who you still hold out hope for?

  “I can tell you one thing, for all the times I got in his face over you, Dusty’s held his ground. The man’s a stone wall that doesn’t budge. He’s not the type to need anyone to go on a tirade and defend him. And,” Morgan continues with regret, “he probably would’ve had a second princess on his arm if I hadn’t been an overbearing jerk.”

  My brother promises not to disown me and drives off, heading for home. I dodge puddles on my way into the building and slink up the stairs close to the drywall, hoping no one sees me.

  Still hoping no one sees me. What a laugh. I keep hiding and getting caught hasn’t taught me much, has it? I’m a wreck and the only person to blame is myself. Yet, I still want time to compose myself and figure out how to explain.

  I move the red velvet rope when my feet hit the landing at the third floor, inch to the side, and reattach it to the brass hook on the wall.

  My door is open and light coming through the window casts a dreary pattern on the hallway floor. I pass by noticing my lamp is on and Sloan’s perched cross-legged on my bed.

  She jumps up, a mix of relief and concern etched her features. “Where have you been!” The accusatory questions only one of your best friends has the right to ask follow rapid-fire from behind me about Boone, Dusty, and how I could’ve taken off without confiding in her.

  I’ve been in the car for so long I don’t think twice about my destination until I’m pushing into the bathroom. The sight of the tranquil sage decor sets me off. About to piss myself, I have to instruct my bladder to hold on.

  Covering my mouth, a racked sob escapes. It’s so loud and degrading and I lose what little composure I’ve got left. Not only have I given all the people who love me the illusion I don’t trust them, I’ve also left them with the impression Dusty isn’t trustworthy. What’s worse is because of my insecurities, I have blown it with the nicest guy I’ll ever meet.

  After our date, Dusty gave me a second chance. What did my brother see on the security camera feed that made him incite a posse and drive fricken’ halfway across the state? Obviously, a woman who hesitated to get too close while arguing with a man twice her size. I had to have looked frightened by what Dusty wanted from me…because I was. It’s not as if Dusty hadn’t made me aware Morgan was out for him either. If something happened to me, he’d be the first logical suspect. By taking off, I’d done nothing to ease anyone’s concerns.

  Until this weekend, I’d been so damn scared to get in over my head with a man. I stood at the edge of the wood, facing the wrong direction. It’s stupid to lament I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. But when it comes down to it? If I’d simply turned around, shifted my perspective, Dusty had been standing in the clearing.

  I’d wanted the perfect romance with the perfect timing. But considering my flawed home life, what did I know of any of that? My unwillingness to accept imperfections—in my plan and in the man I’ve harbored feelings for—leaves me in no better situation than I’ve avoided.

  I’d asked him to hold me to a higher standard and can’t beg him to change his mind. There’s no way Dusty will trust me after this and no chance we’ll ever be a couple now. Those stupid images of us I’d entertained as I came to my senses are flushed down the toilet.

  Sloan’s waiting when I finish in the stall. I wash my hands. She offers me a towel and then a tissue for my uncontrollable waterworks.

  Sympathy laced, yet in true girlfriend fashion, she doesn’t mince words. “You look like hell. Want to talk about it?”

  I let out a ragged breath, trying to stop from feeling sorry for myself anymore. It’s futile when my mind draws a silly parallel: my tears are like a burst pipe and the handyman isn’t here to patch it up. Why, when I’ve acted so ashamed of Dusty, should I expect he’d fix me? I mean, I was proving I was capable of turning my shitty life into something I could be proud of, wasn’t I?

  Of all the times I was my own cheerleader, I’m not proud anymore. I’m the worst kind of person. My education didn’t better me. I’m as led by the preconceived notions and worry about the judgments of others as anyone.

  “Okay, I’ll start.” She puts her hand on her hips, downloading everything that’s gone on here during my absence. “The sublet deal on the condo near Holly fell through. She’d tried to get in touch a bunch of times so you could go see it. When that didn’t work, she messaged the group chat. Nobody could find hide nor hair of you and the boys went nuts. They were down in the offices, going through the tape, and finding your last GPS coordinates. Morgan took off before Carver had a chance to tell him he’d called Renata. It didn’t make a difference to Morgan. In his mind, you needed rescuing. So we all—Aidy included, and my advice is you might want to buck up and kiss her ass for making her worry about you and Morgan—have been waiting on pins and needles.

  “Even after they figured out where you were, I’m still shaking over the idea something awful happened. I can’t deal with the ‘what ifs’, Cece. What if you’d actually been abducted by an actual stranger? We love you so much. How were we ever supposed to get over that? Now, you’re back. So why don’t you fill in the blanks?”

  “We left on Friday. I wanted to figure out how I felt about Dusty. And, in the end, I proved I was exactly what I feared I was to him.”

  “Which is?”

  “His cum dumpster.”

  “Ooooh, Honey! I’m not even sure what that means other than to tell you we are not using those words. Not now. Not ever.”

  “It means—”

  “I get the drift! But you are so much more. He wouldn’t have taken you away for the weekend if all he wanted was to get you into bed. I’m guessing you were already sleeping together?”

  “Not in a bed.” I criticize myself.

  “Okay in the cab of his truck, the dressing room at Sweet Caroline’s.” Sloan rattles off places she assumes Dusty and I were having sex based on the camera footage the guys pulled when I was missing.

  Geez, once the cat’s out of the bag everyone cozies up with popcorn to watch the shitshow your life’s become.

  “The ladies’ room,” I apologize because the remorse I’ve had for breaking the rule has lingered for forever.

  “Ew, at the club?”

  I worry my lip and look at the tile under my feet.

  “THIS bathroom?”

  The silence between us lets a horrified Sloan draw her own conclusions. “Are you done in here?”

  I swallow, presuming she means using the facilities. Although, I’ve been doing a lot more in here, haven’t I? When I don’t answer Sloan drags me by the hand to my room. I fully expect she’ll throw a suitcase on the bed. Instead, she pulls the covers down.

  “Lie down.”

  My jaw drops.

  “Do you need me to tell you that you’re a bitch? You are. Cece. You’re a total cunt. I’m pissed at you, but I’m still here. Now get comfy and don’t leave out a damn detail.” She flops against the pillows, expecting me to do the same.

  I slide down, lying on a bed which doesn’t feel like my own anymore. Sloan does too. We’re face to face. She uses her thumbs to wipe the teardrops from underneath my eyes.

  “Ladies room aside, how bad did you fuck up?”

  “The most important people in my life hate me.”

  “No, they don’t. For as worried as I was and mad as I am, not me. And Morgan overreacted because he loves you, Hon. His jail time was rough. I’ve seen how protective of
you he’s been since he got out. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for leaving you with no one. Count your lucky stars, if you haven’t noticed, he’s ten times worse when it comes to Aidy.” Sloan’s brow creases and she frowns.

  Sloan’s got a messed up past of her own. While mine pales in comparison, she knows it lacks the warm fuzzies. I spill the parts I’ve told my brother and give Sloan the extra details he’s unlikely to appreciate.

  “I thought I was some dumb stripper everyone wanted to fuck. So when he didn’t ask me out, how was I supposed to know Dusty wanted a relationship? It was rotten. I loved being with him and still hated how cheap what we were doing and lying about it made me feel.”

  I leave out how I hadn’t wanted the girls to taunt me. Given my reaction, slapping Morgan, I’m sure I would have defended Dusty to anyone in a heartbeat and made them regret their disbelief that this man made me happy. I’d likely have bitten back to a lewd comment about Dusty’s anatomy with one of my own. The kind that, no matter the size, would make them wonder if their man measured up.

  When it comes down to it and I had a chance to explain, I would tell Dusty. After the way my actions wounded his pride, he deserves undistilled honesty. This is something we won’t come back from, and he needs to understand how much I regret it.

  “It was easier to make you the bad guys when it was me.” I do admit to Sloan. “If there was a reason to second guess anything, I did. I let my miserable past lead me into a miserable future so I didn’t get stuck giving up on PA school.”

  “Did Dusty ever ask you to give up on what you wanted?”

  “No, I never even gave him a chance to get that far. But you were right when you said he was serious about us if he was introducing me to his daughter. He was in a rush to bring us all up there together.” Not as if it matters now.

  “What did you say?”

  “We should go slower. She’s a sweet girl, but I’m not ready to be a mother. I didn’t have the best role model.” I don’t doubt for a minute I’d get attached to Sylvie. But going from cum du—the word we’re not using anymore—to girlfriend to second mommy in a week is too much. I’m understanding how rigid my plan was. It didn’t give me any flexibility for someone as wonderful as Dusty to come into my life. However, I can’t throw it all out the window to fit the mold of someone else’s dreams.

  “At least you were willing to compromise something.” Her nose bunches and her mouth twists as if to reinforce my plan was awfully rigid for her taste.

  My shoulder gets stuck on the mattress as they shrug and my lip wobbles. “I really began to think Dusty and I were changing things between us for the better. Starting something new. I was going to tell you where I’d been when he dropped me off. I swear, Sloan.”

  In actuality, I couldn’t wait to tell her. Hollowness has replaced my excitement from a few hours ago. It’s my fault for not letting anyone in until it was too late. You can kill people with kindness and still keep a wall around your heart.

  Holly steps out of the townhouse with a tiny fenced-in backyard she shares with her sister.

  It’s unseasonably warm for late winter. The sheen of sweat on my skin is a nice change, but I’ll be happy when it cools off tomorrow.

  The three kids are playing kickball and tormenting us with requests to set up the sprinkler so they can run through it. Putting aside the few grumbles when I remind her she has no bathing suit, Sylvie’s having a blast.

  Holly and Laurel invited Sylvie and me over for the afternoon while Renata’s away. The burgers Laurel is flipping are repayment for having Bhodi over a while back. I have guilt my mother-in-law is missing out, but on those “how would you rate your pain” scales that go from grinning to crying, it’s a notch up from the anger and resentment I’ve harbored over other things.

  Holly pushes a beer into my hand and sits next to me on the wooden steps.

  “Thanks.”

  “Meh, you looked as if you needed one.”

  “It shows?”

  “Every time you try not to talk about her.”

  Pissed as hell, I slammed shit around, packing up my stuff almost as soon as Cece ran down the driveway and hauling my fuming ass up the highway. Irate, I’d let her cast a dark cloud over my spot in the woods where I’m starting over. It cost me more than a broken heart. A trooper pulled me over outside of Greensboro. Being a hulking man with speech problems is difficult on the best of days, topped off with my obvious anger? Yeah, it went over like a lead balloon, adding an hour onto the trek home.

  Finally back from Boone, Renata didn’t hold back asking how it went. After dealing with the police, I was curt telling her we hadn’t seen eye to eye on a few things. Leaving out, namely, Cece hadn’t any desire for a relationship with a man like me.

  Celine having me pick her up from the medical park seems obvious now. The only way I’d begun to believe she took off without telling anyone is how fast she snagged her purse and turned tail. Not that I wanted her back inside. She ruined fucking everything.

  I’ve got the rest of her stuff shoved in a garbage bag in the back of the truck. This is my week off while Renata is away. I took vacation since she’s soaking up the sunshine on the swabbed deck of a cruise liner. Sylvie’s booster is in the cab again, and she was quick to tell me it smelled like the lady in the red dress. I’m glad she forgot her name. I’d like to forget it too.

  I finally understand Celine’s ashamed of me. Of everything we’ve shared. I’m the man who gets her off, not even worth mentioning in passing.

  What kind of idiot was I introducing my daughter to her? I’m not even certain where the seed of faith we’d all mesh came from. Maybe I’m a fucking lonely loser. Or as big a moron as people try making me out to be. Now I’m grateful for Renata’s comments about things progressing too fast as much as I hate having ignored her warnings.

  I haven’t had much to distract me in between school drop-off and pick-up, princess movies, and tucking Sylvie in after a bedtime story. I’ve dissected my life reading the pages of princess pop-up books, and in this fairytale nobody saw past the frog’s warts.

  Holly got an earful of gossip at the club already, so I’ve spilled few details about the disastrous weekend. She also admitted she had a sense something was up between me and Celine, but where we’d been tight-lipped about it, she hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

  I grip my chin. “How’d you figure out it was her?”

  “You mean, beyond the fact that the vein in your neck bulged during every one of her performances? I thought it was weird she smelled like you. Then you wandered over to the bar and smelled like her.”

  “You sniffed it out over the club’s stale sweat and alcohol stench?”

  Seriously? Do women have some sort of scent super-power no one’s informed me of? I’m unprepared if this is a talk I’m going to have to have with my daughter along with the birds and the bees.

  “The sniffer never fails.” Holly twitches her nose a la Bewitched reruns. I swear had I listened hard enough there would have been the tinkling sound.

  “It does too,” Laurel pronounces. “You have an ex-asshole no different from the rest of us.”

  Holly ignores her sister’s comment. “I told you, Big Guy.” Holly leans her head on my arm. “Don’t date strippers, the waitstaff or co-workers of any kind. Don’t date soldiers or anyone in the military either.”

  “Doesn’t leave many choices.” Laurel twirls a pair of barbecue tongs in her hand. “If your list of acceptable partners gets any shorter, your lady parts are going to shrivel up.”

  “My vagina is happy on its own, fuck you very much.” Holly tosses her sister the middle finger.

  “Y’all should date each other.” Laurel points the tongs back-and-forth.

  Holly and I make room for the Holy Spirit and a dozen of his favorite saints, regarding each other with undisguised revulsion. Hey, at least we both have the same gut reaction.

  Holly follows it up with, “Dusty’s too young for me, anyhow.” Our
true feelings aired, she scooches back and throws an arm around me. “He should be with someone equally as sexy, though.”

  “As sexy as me or you?” My chest rumbles.

  “Uh, me?” She uses the ‘duh’ tone.

  “So, Dusty, include nobody older or younger to your list too. That way your man parts can shrivel up alongside Holly’s girlie ones. I still say it would work between you two. The kids get along great and we wouldn’t have to worry about repair bills.”

  I’ve fixed a few things here and there for Laurel. If I charged her for more than the parts, it would be in char-grilled meats. Laurel makes a mean burger. “Something broken?”

  “Nope. It would just be convenient.” Laurel’s admission makes me laugh and we wind up joking around about some of my worst repair calls. Before Laurel heads inside to get a platter, a part of me almost forgets how we got on the subject to begin with.

  Then Holly looks me in the eyes and it’s all back. I see how hard it is for her to be alone too. “You really liked her, huh, Dust?”

  I scrub my face. “Yeah… I did.”

  “Not no more?” she confirms with a sad smile, rubbing my bicep.

  I shake my head once and look between my boots planted on the step below. Celine’s demand I hold her to a higher standard came back to bite her in the butt. I’m not wasting any more time with a woman like her. I’m not even thirty, and this life’s taken too much of a toll on me. I don’t have more to give people who can’t appreciate me.

  “I still can’t believe you’re tossing up quitting. It’ll be weird without you around at Sweet Caroline’s.”

  The same as when I opted to hand in my notice at the engineering firm, it’s been a chore not to ruminate over everyone’s reactions.

  “Nothing good will come from me going back to work at the mill whether Celine Wescott lives there or not.”