Lone Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 6)

by Lindsay Detwiler

  She shrugs. “Would you have listened?”

  I weigh her words. “No, probably not.”

  “Exactly. Sometimes, it’s better to silently plant the seed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Oh, nothing. But listen, when the wedding comes along, is it okay for me to tell that story about you in Panera Bread, or no? You know, for my speech? I need to start drafting this thing because you know I’m a terrible writer.”

  “Oh, look at that. I think it might be time for you to head home,” I tease. “Don’t you have some designs to work on?”

  “And don’t you have a ton of marketing to work on? I mean, if the boss is taking some time to play, I think a lowly employee can do the same. Me and Brad are going to get busy tonight.”

  “First, you’re not a lowly employee. You’re the heart of this company. And two, I didn’t need that mental image. Now get out of here. Take a few pieces of cornbread with you.”

  Harper grins. “Am I your guinea pig now? What, if we don’t choke and die on this stuff, then it’ll be okay for Cash?”

  “You’ve got it. So send me a text after you eat it to tell me you lived.”

  “We might be too busy for a text,” she teases, laying into the word “busy” heavily.

  “I love you,” I shout after swatting her away. She heads toward the door, stooping down to pet Barcelona goodbye.

  “Love you back. Now wrangle that cowboy,” she says.

  “He’s not a cowboy. Far from it.”

  “Closest you’ll ever get, probably, so own it. Good luck tonight.”

  “You too,” I shout.

  She peeks back through the almost-shut door. “I don’t need luck to get lucky anymore.”

  Before I can spout something back, the door slams, and I’m alone to finish dinner, finish my makeup, and finish owning the fact Cash Creed’s coming over, breaking even more rules I’ve set out for myself.

  Then again, I’m pretty sure the entire book of rules has been chucked out at this point. I guess that’s the thing about lust and love and whatever the hell this is. Sometimes it changes the rules for you, and you just have to learn how to play all over again.

  Twenty-One

  Cash

  “So, how was dinner last night? Did Sage’s cooking hold up to Mama’s?” Levi asks as I lean back in the desk chair at the apartment complex. Levi’s swung by to go over some business issues with me, but also to interrogate me about last night. I wouldn’t expect any less.

  “Yeah, it was pretty damn good,” I reply, grinning as I lace my fingers behind my head, kicking my feet up on the desk.

  “Wait until Mama hears. Have you talked to her lately? Because she has been on my case about you. Wondering how you’re doing, if you’re behaving, and if there’s a woman in the picture.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t tell her about Sage,” I reply.

  Levi grins. “How much is the secret worth to you?”

  “More than I have. Jesus, if that woman hears a hint of me getting serious, she’ll be down here buying mother-of-the-bride dresses and giving Sage Grandma’s ring before I can even blink.”

  “And would that be such a bad thing?”

  “Ditto, brother. You’re in a serious relationship. Why don’t you give Grandma’s ring a hand to rest on?”

  “You know that’s not mine and Jodie’s thing,” Levi replies.

  “Then it sure as hell isn’t mine and Sage’s.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Anyway,” I say, trying to shift the subject.

  “Anyway, was the after-dinner activity just as good?” Levi winks, and I roll my eyes.

  “Don’t worry about my after-dinner activities, brother. You know I’m a pro in those respects.”

  “That’s why I was surprised you wanted to meet here so early.”

  “I didn’t spend the night last night.”

  Levi’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. We’re doing things a little differently.”

  “So you sex her up, then get to know her? You go fast and then slow?”

  “It’s all about timing, Levi. You should know that. And yes, we’ve decided to try a different approach.”

  “How’s that working for you?”

  I think about lying. But hell, Levi knows me better than anyone. “Honestly? I wanted nothing more than to say fuck our new rules and shred that sexy dress she was wearing off with my teeth. But you know, I am patient when I need to be.”

  “We’ll see how long this lasts.”

  “I guess we will. Now, can we get serious for a minute?”

  “Shoot.” Levi readjusts his hat.

  I sigh, standing up from the chair. I’m not one to admit defeat, so this isn’t easy.

  “Well, things are a tad bit off around here.”

  “As in…?” Levi asks, walking toward me.

  “As in we’ve had an uptick in tenant complaints. About facilities breaking, about some of the renters, and maybe about the fact I forgot to check the voicemail for Grandad’s phone number and there were about twenty unanswered issues.”

  “Are you serious, Cash?”

  “I’m serious,” I admit. I sigh. “Look, in my defense, I told you I wasn’t cut out for this.”

  “And I told you I needed you to be. Cash, you know things are crazy with Jodie’s writing and with Wild Hearts. I thought you said you had it under control.”

  “I thought I did. But I guess running this place and all the other rentals is harder than I thought. I just, I wanted you to be aware so I don’t leave you with a shitstorm on your hands. Thought you could help me get a handle on it so it’ll be easier when I have to pass it off.”

  Levi blinks, tilting his head. “Pass it off? What do you mean?”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I lean in on the paper-covered desk. “I mean at the end of summer, when I go home.”

  There is a lengthy pause.

  “What?” I ask when Levi just continues to stare, looking like he’s seen the ghost of Grandpa.

  “I just…. Wow. I just thought with all this Sage stuff and how you were fitting in with all of our crew, I don’t know, Cash. I just thought maybe you were fixing to settle in here.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “What? Me? Settling down? Levi, hold up. I told you at the beginning of all this that I was staying temporarily. This is your gig, not mine.”

  Levi crosses his arms. “But what’s back in Texas for you? Some hours in the law offices with Mom and Dad, doing the same thing every day? Screwing the same women over and over and yet feeling lonely? I don’t know, Cash. I just thought maybe you were building something here that you’d want to hang on to.”

  “Dammit, Levi,” I say, my temper flaring. “I told you when I took this not to get used to me being here, that it was for a short period of time. This isn’t me. What, you think doing a half-assed job running rental properties is what I imagined for myself? It’s been fun, real fun. But I never planned on staying here. This is your dream, buddy. Not mine.”

  Levi sighs. “I’m sorry. I just, well, it’s been nice having you here. I’d hoped that Sage changed your mind.”

  “You know I don’t operate like that. Yeah, Sage and I have something. And hell, it might even turn into a serious something. But you also know I’m the last man in the world to make a decision based on a woman. And I know she’s the same. That’s why we were both so hesitant to start this whole thing. Look, just because it’s moved beyond one night doesn’t mean it’s anything more than fun.”

  Levi chuckles now, and I’m pissed again. “What the hell’s so funny?”

  “Sorry, it’s not you, not really. It’s just, well, I know another Texan who said the exact same thing not too long ago. And hell, that guy was screwed and didn’t even know it. Sometimes, brother, someone comes along and changes everything you thought you knew about yourself. I’m just saying don’t be surprised if things shake up differently than you planned.�
��

  Before I can refute what he said or get angry or punch him, he’s calmly striding across the office to the door.

  “Wait up, what about all this tenant shit?”

  Levi peeks back in the door. “You’re smart, Cash. You’ll figure it out. And if you don’t, who cares, right? After all, this is all just temporary.” He tips his hat like the cocky son-of-a-bitch he sometimes is, grins, and strolls right on out, leaving me to stew at the office window wondering why the thought of settling in here has me so fuming mad.

  Or maybe now that I’m alone with my thoughts I can admit a scarier reality—it’s not anger I’m feeling.

  It’s terror.

  Twenty-Two

  Sage

  “So, before we get to talking about the upcoming promos and finishing touches on the line and all of that, I have some news,” Harper says, her smile spreading on her face as she warms her hands on her cup of tea.

  We’re out for breakfast this morning, and even though I’ve barely slept in days with the stress of the upcoming line weighing me down, I feel lighter looking at Harper. I’ve noticed she’s been beaming lately. I assumed it was just because Brad has been keeping her busy and glowing, but now, I step back and realize something else is at play.

  “Okay,” I say, wanting to let her savor this moment. I can tell her announcement is going to be big.

  “We’re postponing the wedding.”

  I blink, not sure if I’ve heard my friend right. I even lean in, as if getting closer to her will verify that I’ve misunderstood the already-spoken sentiment.

  “Wait, what?”

  “The wedding. It’s postponed.”

  I study her smile, still not comprehending. This was just about the last thing on my mind.

  “And you’re happy about this?”

  “Sort of,” she says. “I mean, I was looking forward to all of the stuff we had planned, but it will just come later than we thought.”

  “Okay. Should I be worried?” I ask, sipping my coffee now, wondering if my sleep deprivation is finally catching up.

  “Well, no. I don’t think so. Um, here’s the thing.”

  There is an epic pause, the kind right before something life changing spews from someone’s mouth.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  And with two words, her smile erupts into contagious laughter. I set down my cup, abandoning the caffeine for the surge I get from Harper’s joy. We hug in the middle of the café, people looking, but I don’t care.

  “Harper, congratulations. I can’t believe it. I thought you’ve been glowing, but I just thought it was a whole lot of sex.”

  “Well, it kind of was. But yeah, we’re expecting. And my due date is right around the wedding. So we thought why rush it, you know? We can just have the wedding a year later or something. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. It doesn’t even matter now, you know?”

  We take our seats, and I watch Harper animatedly talk about what a surprise it was but how happy it made her. She talks about how she didn’t think she wanted kids until she saw that positive pregnancy test, and how even though this changes everything, she’s so excited.

  “I’m happy for you,” I say, nodding. Studying Harper, I recognize a joy that has felt so distant to me for most of my life. The joy of unconditional connection with another, the joy of knowing your life isn’t just about you anymore.

  A joy that suddenly makes me feel a little bit sad for my own state of affairs.

  I shove it down, though, knowing this moment is Harper’s. We spend the morning talking about nurseries and names and pregnancy tips instead of the Evermore release—and I couldn’t be happier.

  When we part ways and I head back to my home, ready to tackle some of the marketing and final details on my own, giving Harper the rest of the day off to celebrate, I try to shove aside the melancholy that’s settling in.

  What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been like this before. Never been jealous of others who have the traditional life, the life I claim not to want.

  But as I step inside my empty condo, the only sound the meowing of my cats, I study the lifeless walls, the pictureless mantle, and I wonder if I’ve made the right decision at all.

  And most of all, later on when I’m sitting on my balcony alone with my thoughts, I think about the horrible moments that changed my life path, that made me the Sage I am today, and that made me the woman who rejected traditional love in all senses of the word.

  I wonder as I sip my lemonade, cracking my flip flop against my heel, if things could’ve been different for me if that one moment just hadn’t happened.

  “Who’s Sheila?” I ask Mom pointedly as she’s sipping wine and pulling the pasta dinners from the bag. Dad’s on a business trip, and I’m grounded after a minor transgression with my phone and a boy named Steven—long story. At the name, I think Mom’s going to spit out her wine. Her eyes widen, and she stares at me as if I’ve just summoned a demon.

  “Where did you hear the name Sheila?” she asks. I can tell she’s trying to regain her composure, her eyebrows knitting together in an inquisitive look. She sets down her wine glass, and I can see her employing the deep breathing techniques from her therapist.

  I reach for the takeout bag from the top-notch Italian restaurant across town, meeting her eyes. I didn’t expect this kind of reaction. In truth, I was just making conversation. After all, at fourteen, I felt like there were few things I could talk about with my mom or wanted to talk about with my mom.

  “Dad was on the phone yesterday when I got home from school. I heard him saying some weird stuff. Not to worry, that it would all be okay, that everyone understood. Then I heard him say Sheila. I figured it was a new secretary or something.”

  I lift out my meal and pause as Mom looks visibly shaken. She’s never been a woman I’d consider strong, but perhaps that’s not really fair. Mom and I have always butted heads. I’ve always despised her lack of drive, how she seems okay just riding on Dad’s success and not fretting about building a life, a passion of her own. Now, though, I feel a mixing sense of dread and sorrow fill my chest.

  “Mom?”

  “She’s no one, dear. Now pass the salt.”

  I freeze, blinking, wondering how everything can be so complicated yet so transparent in this family.

  “Mom, answer me. Who is she?”

  “Sage, just drop it, will you? Some things aren’t for you to know.” She raises her voice, and I can see tears starting to well in her eyes. My stomach drops.

  “Dammit, Mom, I’m tired of all the secrets in this family. I’m tired of always being on the outside.”

  “Sage Everling, you will change your tone. Now drop it.”

  But it’s too late. Her composure cracks, the tears fall, and I know instinctively that life’s about to shift.

  “Mom, just tell me,” I murmur, softer, more encouraging.

  She meets my eyes, and woman to woman, we connect in a way we haven’t before.

  “She’s your father’s mistress.”

  Hearing the words stabs into me in a way I hadn’t expected. I’ve known since I was young that my parents aren’t perfect. Their condescending attitudes, their conniving, manipulative business methods, and their constant judgement of me have me ready to move out already. Still, there was one thing I could say.

  They love each other.

  They might be snooty, smug snobs most of the time, but they do it together. They’ve got each other’s backs. Their love is stable and, although I’d never admit it, is something I admire in them.

  And now, that shatters. I don’t have to question the validity of Mom’s statement because I perhaps already knew. I knew that something didn’t sit right. I knew by the way Dad’s face burned with embarrassment when he saw me walk in that things were amiss.

  But hearing the confirmation doesn’t make it any easier. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I say.

  “No, I am,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This wasn’t for you
to know.”

  “Of course you should’ve told me. I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  I get up from my seat and cross the floor, wrapping my mom in my arms. It’s an uncharacteristically affectionate moment for us. We’ve never been the hugging, kissing type of family. In many ways, I’ve always been the outlier, the one on the outskirts not understanding what drives my parents. But now, nothing but sympathy rises up.

  “So what now?” I whisper after a long moment when her tears have stopped. Mom shrugs.

  “What do you mean?”

  I study her. “I mean who is moving out? Did you file for divorce?”

  She blinks at me before reaching for her wine glass.

  “Mom?”

  “Dear, it’s not that simple, you know. There’s business to think about, your legacy. Our image.”

  I feel anger writhing inside of me, replacing the sympathy. “Do not tell me you’re taking him back.”

  “Darling, there’s nothing that needs to change. This isn’t something new. Sheila’s been around for a while. It’s just something I’ve learned to deal with. I’m just… I’m sad you had to find out is all.”

  “Wait, back up,” I demand. “You’ve known about this?”

  She wipes at her tears. “Darling, marriage isn’t easy, okay? I know you can’t understand at your age, but you will. And sometimes for the life we want, we make sacrifices. Concessions.”

  I shake my head. “I hate you,” I whisper.

  “Sage,” she replies softly, but it’s no use.

  I’m gone in every way that matters.

  Tears fall now, but this time they’re from my eyes. I hate that I’m crying, hate that I expected so much more from two people who are clearly so emotionally clueless.

  “How could you do this? Don’t you have any pride?” I ask, shaking my head through the tears.

  “Dear, it isn’t about pride. Like I said, it’s about image. It’s about this life we have. Sure, there are some negatives, but overall, the positives make it worth sticking around.”

  I think about all the things I want to say, but instead, I spin on my heel, stomp up the stairs, and slam the door. She doesn’t come after me. She never does.