All the Sky (25 page)

“It’s great, kid. No sweat.”

He took Cory’s hand and led her outside, grabbing her coat off the hook on the way.

When they got outside, he released her and handed her her coat. “Put this on—you’ll need it.” Then he walked to his bike. She had no idea what was going on. She didn’t have her keys or anything, though, and if he was taking her somewhere, it would have to be in the Beast, so she’d need to go back in. She started to turn back to the door. Nolan was standing in the doorway, and as she watched, his face split into a wide, open grin.

“Hey—catch,” Havoc called from behind her. She turned, and he tossed her a helmet. It was obviously new and obviously for a woman, with a silvery kind of paisley pattern on the black surface. Kind of fancy. Sweet Jesus, did he think he was going to teach her how to ride his damn enormous Harley? No. Not going to happen. She looked up, prepared to set him straight, and he stepped to the side of said enormous Harley, gesturing like a game show hostess.

She didn’t see it at first. At first, she just saw the same bike she saw just about every day, and she was stuck on the idea that he thought he was going to teach her to ride that monster. And that was so not going to happen.

She started to shake her head, but then, behind her, Nolan muttered, “Mom, geez. Look.
Look
.”

She looked. And she saw. There was another seat, a new seat, behind his. A bitch seat, as he called it.

He showed her what he couldn’t tell her.

She stepped off her little stoop, crossed her scrubby little yard, and went into his arms. He wrapped her up tight.

“Ride with me, Cory.”

She nodded, feeling too overwhelmed with love for words.

~oOo~

“Oh, excellent. Pies. I picked up a couple at the little French bakery we like, too, in case you forgot. Are these homemade? Mom’s recipe? Here, you can set them on the sideboard. Can I get you something to drink? Alex is making champagne cocktails.”

The whole family greeted them in the round, chandelier-lit foyer. Lindsay was in full hostess mode, dressed impeccably as ever, in wide-legged, velvet pants, little gold ballet flats, and a shimmery gold top with a flouncy neckline. She had her chestnut hair done in an elaborate updo. Alex was in khakis and a navy cashmere sweater. Vienna and Verona were, as always, dressed in matching outfits, Vienna’s pink, Verona’s purple. Today’s outfits were fancy little cream-colored velvet dresses with wide satin sashes in their assigned colors, with hair ribbons to match. And black patent-leather Mary Janes, naturally.

Jesus, everybody was precious. Cory and Nolan had dressed up, too, but they looked like street people in comparison. Cory was wearing a pair of jeans in black, waleless corduroy—which was almost like velvet—and a white poet shirt. Nolan was in his newest jeans and his one and only collared shirt. Cory didn’t miss her little sister’s quick, evaluative, head-to-toe, glance, or the slight twitch of her perfectly glossed lips that accompanied it.

As they came all the way into the house and Cory carried the pies to the big, antique sideboard in the formal dining room, she realized that the noise level in the house was higher, and different, than she would have expected from the two adults and two small girls who lived here. There was a hum of conversation. She looked over at the table, set for dinner with aggressively tasteful china, silver, crystal, and linen. The table was extended its full length. Thirteen settings.

She’d noticed a lot of cars parked on the street, but the whole street was that way, and it was Thanksgiving, so she hadn’t thought much more of it, figuring the neighbors were having lots of people over. Apparently, so was her sister.

Setting aside the vast aggravation she felt at the idea that she and Nolan were being subjected to a whole crowd of strangers without at least the courtesy of advance notice, Cory did some deeper reasoning. Lindsay would never have an unbalanced table. Not without a reason. To Cory’s mind, that meant one of two things. Either Lindsay had invited their father to dinner—and no, she’d never do that; he was far too unpredictable, and she’d die before she exposed him to people whose esteem mattered to her—or she had invited a single man. For Cory. To Thanksgiving dinner. Cory didn’t even need to seek out the location of the conversational hum to know that was the answer.

Fuck Lindsay. Just fuck her.

“What the hell, Mom?”

She’d momentarily forgotten that Nolan had followed her into the dining room with the other pie.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Chin up, though. Just a meal, right? And then we’ll hie on home.” They set their plain pies next to the fancy bakery selections and went to the coat closet to hang up their coats.

“Okay. Into the breach we go.” She hooked her arm through her son’s—when had he gotten so much taller than she was?—and they walked into the wide, tall, airy space that was kitchen, and breakfast room, and hearth room. And found the crowd.

With a perfect welcoming smile, Alex came over and handed Cory a champagne cocktail and Nolan something that looked almost the same but was ginger ale, Cory was certain.

Alex kissed her cheek. “Welcome, you two. It’s been too long. How is everything in Signal Bend?”

“It’s good, Alex. You’re good, too, I hope?” Cory did her part with the small talk, but she felt Nolan squirm a little, so she released his arm and let him go find a quiet place to be. Alex watched him go, and Cory saw the flash of disapproval move over her brother-in-law’s face. Then he turned back to her with that plastic smile.

“Excellent. We’re excellent. I have someone I’d like you to meet. Bennett!” He turned to the side and reached out an arm. A very handsome, tailored man, about mid-forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a chisel jaw, walked over. He smiled. Well, at least they found somebody nice to look at.

Alex put his arm across this Bennett’s back and pushed him toward Cory. “Bennett Eirenreich, this is my sister-in-law, Corinne Hawes. Bennett is a developer. Excuse me.”

With that, as if nothing more needed to be said about Bennett Eirenreich’s suitable qualifications, Alex turned and walked away.

Fuck Linz. Fuck Alex. Fuck them all. She scanned the room for Nolan and found him sitting at the breakfast table with Vienna and Verona, coloring in coloring books with them. Well, at least he’d found something to do that would keep him off Alex’s judgment radar. He was good with the girls.

She turned back to Bennett with a polite smile. “Hi, Bennett.”

~oOo~

By the time they were seated at the table for dinner, Cory had made it plain to Bennett the Developer that she was not interested and that she was, in fact, already spoken for. Since she had not yet informed Linz or Alex of this fact, she’d realized that there was a can of worms hanging over that statement when she’d made it, but Bennett had been very convinced of his persuasive skills, and she’d run out of ways to deflect him without getting heated.

It was clear before the salad course was finished that he had told Alex, probably complaining that he’d been set up with an unavailable woman. The information had evidently annoyed both Alex and Lindsay, because right there at the table, surrounded by their posh friends who were strangers to Cory, Lindsay said, “So, Cory. I hear through the grapevine that there’s a new guy.” She looked out at the table with a sweet smile, affecting good humor. “I’m always the last to hear the juicy gossip.”

Cory swallowed her radicchio and took a drink of sparkling water. “Yeah, there is. We’ve been seeing each other a couple of months.”

Still wearing that smile, her voice just sharp enough to make sure Cory knew how fake that smile was, Linz said, “Well, do tell. What’s his name, what’s he do? Where’d you meet?”

Jesus. Even his name was a trouble starter. She opened her mouth, not sure whether she’d actually say ‘Havoc’ at this table, with these people, still trying to decide whether to cop out and say ‘Joe,’ even as her tongue was trying to figure out which sounds to make, when Nolan spoke up.

“His name is Havoc. He’s really cool. He owns the bar Mom works at. Actually, she manages it, now.”

Linz’s brow furrowed, but it was Alex who spoke up. “Havoc? What kind of—Jesus Christ, Cory. That bar is owned by the bikers, right? The Night Horde? The ones they did the movie about, with the death and the violence? Tell me you’re not…” He looked around the table and saw all their fancy friends watching avidly as this little family drama began to unfold.

Lindsay cut in, her voice now anxiously perky, “You know what, darling? I think we should carve the turkey. We can talk later.”

Nolan tossed his fork to his plate with a loud clatter. “No. Go ahead and say what you’re gonna say, Uncle Alex. Otherwise, you’ll just make dirty looks at Mom all through dinner. So just say it.”

Alex turned a dark look on Nolan, and Cory knew that Thanksgiving dinner at the Moore house was about to become gossip at their country club. “Watch how you talk to me, Nolan. I deserve your respect.”

“Fuck you, Uncle Alex. Why? Because you’re older than me? Because you’re rich? Well, fuck your money. You don’t treat me with respect. You don’t treat my mom with respect. Havoc does. Havoc treats us like we matter.”

“Nolan, no. Back down, kiddo.” Cory spoke quietly, her head and heart in a tumult. She wasn’t embarrassed; she didn’t care about all these strangers. But she was sad to see Nolan so worked up again, after months of calm.

He had a foul mouth when he was angry, but he’d never lost it in front of Vienna and Verona before. Now Linz gasped and got up, collecting her stunned daughters and taking them out of the room.

Alex threw his napkin on the table and stood. Nolan stood right up with him. “You insolent little ape. All we’ve done for you and your mother, and you mouth off like that? If it weren’t for me and your aunt, your mother would have had you living in a fucking shelter. Or on the streets! Why the fuck should I respect either of you? Sitting at my table disrespecting me.” He turned to Cory. “Get the fuck out. Take your foul spawn and get out of my house. Now.”

Cory nodded and looked at Nolan. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Nolan picked up the fancy china plate that still held half his salad and threw it against the wall.

~oOo~

They stopped at a Denny’s in Springfield and had something that passed for a Thanksgiving dinner. They didn’t talk much. Cory tried, but Nolan was shaking with anger, and she knew there was nothing she could do to help him but give him the space he needed. As they were putting their coats back on and she was putting down the money for dinner and a nice tip, Nolan put his hand on her arm.

“I’m really sorry, Mom. I fucked everything up again.”

She pulled her boy into her arms. He really was getting tall—she thought he might be pushing six feet already. “No, kiddo. It’s okay. Maybe not the best place to say all that to him, but I love you for defending me. Whether I deserved it or not.”

“You deserved it, Mom. You’re so much better than he is.”

“I love you, little cub. You going to be okay?”

He nodded.

~oOo~

Havoc’s Thanksgiving hadn’t been so wonderful either, and he’d come to her late, after she and Nolan were in bed, pretty drunk, angry, and silent, and then he’d gotten more drunk, morose, and silent. And then he’d passed out with his head in her lap. She sat up in bed, propped on her pillows, and watched him. He hadn’t talked about what had set him off so hard—he’d hardly said ten words—but he’d been surprisingly vulnerable, seeking comfort from her in a way he never had, a way she hadn’t thought him capable of.

Late that night, while Havoc slept, she heard Nolan leave the house. It was cold, and later than usual for one of his nighttime roams—which he hadn’t taken for several weeks—but she let him go. She understood. She sat up, her hand on Havoc’s sleeping back, and waited for her boy to come home, but she understood why he needed to go.

~oOo~

She’d dozed off, sitting up against the headboard. It was early dawn when she woke, the light in the room a soft grey. Havoc was still asleep, now on his stomach at her side, snoring.

Cory eased out of bed and tiptoed out of the room. When she got to the kitchen, she looked across the living room and saw Nolan’s door open. Her heart picking up speed, she hurried over and looked in.

He wasn’t there. It was after six o’clock.

He’d been gone four hours. In the cold of a late-November night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Hav. I need you. I need you.”

Havoc came awake immediately, on edge and not sure why. He rolled from his stomach and realized Cory was standing next to the bed, her hand on his shoulder. His head was screaming at him—he’d hit the Jack hard last night and had almost gotten himself into all manner of trouble—but through the painful, bleary haze of hangover, he saw that she looked wrong. Upset. Calm, but upset.

“What’s up?”

“Nolan’s not home. He went out last night, and he’s still not back.”

Now he sat up and rubbed his hand over his face, pushing away the fog and pain. “Went out where? When?”

“Around two. I was awake, but I didn’t go out there. I figured he needed to do his nightwalker thing after yesterday. But that was more than four hours ago, and it’s below freezing out there. I’m worried.”

He was up and getting dressed as she talked. Fuck, though, he was unsteady on his pegs. He needed caffeine. “You call him?”

“His phone is on his desk. Hav, he’s never been out this long. He’s hurt, I know it. Hurt or…” her voice broke and she sucked in a harsh breath.

“Hey, easy.” He pulled her close, but she was stiff in his arms and clearly didn’t want it. He released her and grabbed his burner out of his jeans. As he was about to dial, the rest of her words sank into his thick, sore head. “What do you mean, after yesterday? What happened yesterday?”

“He and my brother-in-law fought, and Alex threw us out. We had Thanksgiving at Denny’s.”

“Fuck, honey. Why didn’t you reach out to me?”