Crazy Love (32 page)

I spent every night in his bed or he in mine. He tagged along on my rubbing excursions and made clumsy attempts to be helpful. He was adorable, and sometimes I even imagined what forever would be like with him.

My phone buzzed. I reached for it and saw it was Dale.

Dale: Jayse is here at The Hookup. He’s with Violet.

My fingers flew over the screen.

Me: Thanks. This sux.

Dale: :(

I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I realized that part of my anger at Jayse was that he’d taken Dale from me. He’d been a really decent friend, stable and logical. He was the polar opposite of Jayse, but they complimented each other so well. I poked my head into Sam’s office to see if he’d organized it yet. It looked incredible, like a mix of a home library and a workspace. I made my way to the desk to take in the full effect. As I rounded the desk, I noticed a folder open on top of it. I couldn’t help but notice eight by ten pictures, and my heart hit the floor with a nearly audible thud.

The pictures were of me.

I reached out for the file with a trembling hand. I flipped to the beginning. It was my birth certificate, high school and undergrad transcripts and pictures of me working at Black Keys, leaving the pharmacy, sitting in class. I’d just gotten to my mother’s arrest records when Sam opened the office door. When he saw me holding the folder, his eyes grew wide and very child-like.

“What the hell is this?” I thought I sounded fairly reasonable, considering.

“It isn’t what it looks like, Annabelle.” He put a defensive hand out in front of him. I couldn’t begin to imagine what
he thought
I thought it looked like.

“Explain.” It was all I could choke out. I could feel my tension rising and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

He advanced closer to me and I backed away from him, still clutching the folder and its contents. His concern grew at that. “I was looking into your past.”

“Obviously.” It was a terse reply, but it needed to be said. “Making sure I’m not a gold digger like your mother said?”

“No… Annabelle...” He came around the desk to me, but I was still backing away. I was terrified that he would touch me. He looked wounded at my retreat, and that stung. “This was to track down the asshole who abused you.” He blushed, and my body was overcome with that pins and needles sensation one gets when a foot falls asleep. I felt like I was going to be sick.

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” My own voice sounded distant. I couldn’t take my eyes from his. His face transformed, and his wide, concerned eyes narrowed just slightly. “What do you plan to do when you find him?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” I could tell he wasn’t lying, but the look in his eyes bordered on deadly. I wasn’t thrilled with the answer. I slowly sat the folder down.

“Leave it alone, Sam.” I sounded like an order. It probably was. I’d tried so hard to put what Travis had done to me behind me, and here Sam was shaking the bushes to draw him out. Maybe we weren’t as in tune with each other as my sex drive told me we were.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to.” His chest rose and fell more rapidly, and his color was off. In any other circumstance I would have taken him in my arms and stroked his hair. But physical contact was a bad idea. I didn’t want my response to him clouding my judgment. “I don’t want this guy hurting someone else. My conscience won’t allow it.”

I trembled as angry tears spilled out my eyes. I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow. My world had just spun on its axis, and the laws of physics no longer seemed to apply. Grief and anger pulled at me from opposing sides, and it was all I could do to hold myself upright.

“Gee thanks, Sam.” My voice was still quiet, but I looked at him utterly aghast. “Until now, I just felt like a used tissue. Now I get to feel
responsible
for it.”

I turned and rushed toward the kitchen to grab my purse. I needed to go. To get in my car and just drive. I needed literal distance between us so I could think…so I could breathe. I slung my purse over my shoulder, and I felt his hand close over it.

“Annabelle,” he said, his delivery firm, worn around the edges by a generous layer of pleading. I slipped from beneath his grasp and made for the door. He got there at the same time I did, and as my hand gripped the knob, his pressed against the door itself. “Please don’t go. Let’s figure this out.”

Tears stood in his disbelieving eyes. I could have easily crumbled; my defenses when it came to Sam were weak on a good day. But I turned the handle and pulled on the door. He leaned on it, his eyes begging me to change my mind.

“Don’t do this. I didn’t…”

I yanked on the door and shrugged him off when he tried to reach for me. “Annie!”

I made it to the elevator before the tears started to fall. I got as far as the car before I was sobbing out loud. I wasn’t even angry at Sam. I hated myself. He was right. Humiliated or not, I should have told everyone what happened to me. Though I wanted to ignore my suspicions, I was pretty sure Travis had done to Becca what he’d done to me. I threw open my door and vomited wine and cheese all over the pavement.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t have to look to know it was Sam. I ignored it. Driving home on autopilot, my thoughts were honed in on my younger sister. If the cold sores in her mouth when she was twelve were more than stress related. If she’d ever be able to trust a man enough to fall in love and have a family. My stomach tried to eat itself as I worried whether Travis had desecrated his own biological daughter or if he reserved such fun for other people’s children. So I didn’t notice the silver bullet camper parked in my spot until I was pulling up behind it.

I didn’t cut the engine. I simply sat there, gripping the steering wheel like a drag racer, my mascara creating onyx trails down my cheeks that I’d have to scrape off later. Finally, I blew my nose on some napkins from a discarded fast food bag and tried to tell myself that my mother’s timely appearance wasn’t an omen.

I approached the building, hugging myself like some children suck their thumb. There she sat, all splayed out, blocking the stairs like she owned the place. She smiled up at me over her Camel non-filter.

“There’s my girl!” Harlow drawled. Mom had lived in the Midwest my entire life, and she still had an accent as Kentucky as Derby Pie.

“Hi, Mom.” When I spoke, I sounded congested. My sinuses were still jacked up from my crying jag. She sat up, concern wrinkling her brow. I looked a lot like my mom, though she had a wide upturned nose that I was thrilled I hadn’t inherited.

“What’s the matter, Annie-bell?” The combination of her pet name and my fights with Sam and Jayse corroded my armor just enough to let her slip inside. My eyes burned again, but I’m pretty sure I was out of tears.

We went inside and she offered up her story over frozen thin mints and butterscotch schnapps, the only alcohol in the house that Jayse hadn’t polished off. She was on her way to see a sick friend in Jacksonville and looked me up. While she spewed her lies, I pretended to check my phone, googling casinos in Florida. As expected, the dog tracks and poker rooms in Jacksonville were plentiful. I saw unread texts from Sam and Dale, but Harlow wasn’t the kind of guest you took your eyes off for long, so I ignored them.

“It’s a man, isn’t it?” she asked, as I looked up from my phone. Her brown eyes searched me for clues. Under the harsh fluorescents, I could just make out an almost healed bruise on her left cheekbone. I didn’t ask about it. She’d only lie to me more.

“What do you mean?” When I remembered who I was bluffing for, I nearly giggled.

“The tears. Boyfriend troubles, baby girl? Becca told me you’re seeing someone.”

“I don’t really want to talk about my sex life with you, Mom. No offense.”

She studied her scuffed cowboy boots, and I considered it a small victory.

“Why are you really here, Mom?” Now that we were done with the social niceties segment of her visit (where I pretend to believe her motives and she pretended we had a relationship), it was time to deal with whatever trouble she’d dragged along with her. Hopefully my apartment wouldn’t be raided by the cops before she hit the road.

“Why do I have to want anything to see my daughter?” She actually had the cojones to look offended.

“Because past trends indicate that you want money. I’m a student. I don’t have any money.”

“When was the last time I asked you for money? It’s been years. When are you gonna let it go? I just wanted to stop by and talk. Is it so terrible that I want to see my child?”

“It’s too late, Mom.” I shook my head. “Some things you just can’t undo.”

“Talk to me…”She tried to reach out for my hand, and I shrank from her.

“I wanted to talk about it then, Mom! I wanted you to put a stop to it! You were supposed to take my side!”

“I know.” She started to tear up, but even her tears-- especially her tears—couldn’t be trusted.

“You know what happened the one time I told Travis ‘no’? He came to my room an hour later and did it anyway. He put his fucking hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, and he said he wouldn’t have to ‘do it’ to me if my mother would just put out.” I spat this bitter truth at her as if it could transfer the diseased part of my psyche. But there was no getting rid of what he’d done. No cure. I had an epiphany then. I had to heal myself. I would never be good as new, but I could stitch the jagged bits of my heart together, and it would beat again. And I was capable of love.

My phone rang, and when I scooped it up a second time, I saw it was Dale. I stood up to take the call. I walked into the living room and answered. “What’s up?”

“Thank God you picked up!” Dale replied. “Jayse is in the E.R. I’m a block away. Can I pick you up?”

“Yes!” I sputtered. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard a bunch of rumors. It’s like a game of Queer Eye Telephone.”

“I’ll be out front.” I hit end call and turned to Harlow, who was pouring more schnapps into a plastic cup. “I have to go. My roommate’s in the E.R. You can stay here tonight, but then I want you gone in the morning. I’m trying to make something of myself, and I don’t have time to participate in whatever game you’re playing.”

She opened her mouth, but I was out of the door before she had a chance to tell anymore tall-tales. Dale pulled up like a Hollywood stunt driver, and I jumped in beside him. It’d still be hours before I realized my mistake. I’d left my purse behind.

I downed my second glass of champagne as I looked up at the grandiose painting of Annie which dominated the gallery’s mezzanine. Art critics and collectors swarmed all around me for a look at all of Trip’s latest creations, but most were stunned silent at the sight of
Angel
, which is what my brother chose to name the portrait. He’d had many offers, but he’d declined each one. That painting was already spoken for.

I’d kept my problems to myself, not wishing to distract Trip from his admiring public. Reeling from Annabelle’s reaction to my investigation, I didn’t want to put on a false smile. I’d convinced myself that what I was doing was from an altruistic place…taking a pedophile off the streets. In truth, I’d done it for revenge. I was a decade too late to save Annie, and feeling helpless, I’d reverted to vengeance. If I stayed this course, I would undoubtedly turn into my father.

“She’s a beauty.” My mother’s voice pulled me away from my obsession.

I nodded mutely.

“Samson, I loved your father.”

“Mama…I don’t want to talk about Sebastian Wakefield.”

“I was talking about Reginald. Sebastian isn’t your father.” Perhaps it was one too many blows in such a short period, but I was stunned silent. She turned a discerning eye on
Angel,
tilting her head to the side.

I finally recovered. “But…he…I don’t understand.”

“I had a moment of weakness once and told him in a letter once that my son was his. Sebastian assumed it was you.”

“Trip’s his son?” I glanced hurriedly around to make sure no one had heard me.

She nodded. “They’re both better off not knowing that, wouldn’t you agree?”

That was the moment I fully appreciated Trip’s situation. When a lie of omission seemed like the best possible decision. And I couldn’t fault Cosmo’s logic, not even a little.

“I did love Reginald. He was a wonderful person. A darling man with the sweetest heart. He would have done anything I asked. But Sebastian was…dangerous. Exhilarating. And I found that irresistible. I made a bad choice that lasted for years. What he said to Reg…” She shook her head with an ugly frown. “It’s unforgiveable. That man was always jealous of your father. If I’d known…I don’t know, maybe it would have been worse had I known. But your father loved both of you boys. As do I.”

I heard genuine emotion in my mother’s voice and regretted not confronting her privately. My ego and temper had gone on a massive bender. My hangover was sure to be an epic one.

“There you are.” Trip looked freaked out and out of breath as he skidded to a stop beside us. “Look at this. Annabelle just forwarded it to me.”