Getting Hotter (37 page)

He continued to struggle, but eventually staggered to his feet. “It’s done. We’re done. So let me get drunk in peace, okay?”

“No, not okay. Why the hell did you break up with her? That woman is—”

“Amazing? A goddess? The best thing that ever happened to me? Yeah, I know.” He made it all the way to the door before his vision got all blurry again and he needed to regroup.

Dylan marched over, shaking his head in disbelief. “If you know all that, why would you end it?”

“Because I don’t deserve her.”

More silence.

“Did you cheat on her or something?” his roommate demanded.

“No.”

“Then I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, you’re a total dick sometimes, and your smart mouth has gotten us all into trouble, but you’re not a horrible ogre or anything.” Dylan shrugged. “Miranda’s lucky to have you.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet of you to say,” Seth said snidely. He took a breath and made it out of the living room, then glanced over his shoulder at his roommate. “Leave me alone, man. I really don’t want company right now.”

He managed to walk in a straight line all the way to his bedroom. As he collapsed on his bed, he heard Dylan’s low murmur from the hallway and made out some of what his roommate was saying. “Can’t come over tonight…I know…fuck, yeah, me too. But things are…weird over here. Yeah, I’ll…later maybe…”

“Hey, Dylan! Don’t cancel your plans on my account!” Seth yelled at the closed door.

“Hey, Seth! Go fuck yourself!”

Footsteps receded, and then the house grew blessedly quiet. Unfortunately, the silence offered too many opportunities for thinking, and before he knew it, his thoughts were running rampant again and his doubts were resurfacing.

He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? Cutting Miranda loose. Ending things now, before they got even more serious, before the twins started looking to him as a father figure. He’d let Adam down all those years ago, but he refused to let Miranda and those kids down. Better to hurt them a tiny bit by walking away now than hurt them even worse in the future. Which he would. He’d eventually hurt them. He knew it.

Christ, he was such a screwup. It was a miracle his mom hadn’t disowned him years ago.

At the thought of his mother, his chest clenched. How could that woman even love him after what he’d done? She was a fucking saint. And he’d never even apologized to her, he realized. He’d never once told her he was sorry for what he did to Adam.

He fumbled for the cell phone on the bed table, fighting another wave of vertigo. He had to squint to find his mom’s number on his contact list, but eventually he managed to click on her name.

Missy answered on the fifth ring, sounding harried but delighted. “Hey, sugar pie! I was hoping you’d call.”

“You at the theater?” He made an effort not to slur his words.

“Yeah, but we’re in between performances so I have some time. I want to know all about this new relationship of yours.” She sounded incredulous. “I couldn’t believe it when Miranda told me you were dating. And you, of course, haven’t given me any details! But I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been waiting for you to call
me
to talk about it. And you say I
pry
too much. Proved you wrong, huh? Anyway, I want to know all—”

“I’m sorry I got Adam killed, Mom.”

There was a shocked gasp. Then complete and utter silence.

It lasted so long that he had to check the display to make sure his phone hadn’t dropped the call.

“Mom?” he said gruffly. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard.” Her voice was so quiet he barely made out her response.

“Okay. Well, that’s it. That’s why I called. I’ll talk to you la—”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” Missy roared.

Now he was the one stunned into silence. “Oh. All right. Are we going to talk about it then?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seth? You just apologized to me for
killing
your
brother
, and you think we’re not going to talk about it?”

He’d never heard his mother sound so livid. Her breathy little-girl voice was sharper than the blade of his Bowie knife, each word oozing with red-hot fury.

Seth gulped. “I figured you wouldn’t want to. You never want to talk about him.”

A heavy breath echoed in his ear. “You’re right. Jesus. You’re right, I never talk about him.”

“’S’okay. I get why you can’t. It’s hard for me too.” A lump rose in his throat. “Look, I know you forgave me for what happened, but I needed to say it out loud. Just once. I needed to apologize because I never apologized all those years ago. I never told you how sorry I was for—”

“Shut up, Seth.”

He frowned, annoyed by the interruption. “I’m not finished. I need you to know that I accept full responsibility for—”

“Shut the fuck up, Seth!”

His temples began to throb, the room doing another dizzying spin.

“You are
not
to blame for what happened to your brother,” Missy Masterson announced. “It is
not
your fault that sick son of a bitch got his hands on Adam.”

Shock spiraled through him. “But—”

“But nothing.” Another gasp came over the line. “Oh Jesus. Oh Seth. Have you been blaming yourself all these years?” Now she sounded like she was crying. “Oh baby, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But…but you…”

“I made you believe that it was?” Horror reverberated from her voice.

“No, but…you couldn’t look at me after it happened. And at the funeral, you wouldn’t meet my eyes when I…” He trailed off, confused as hell.

“I couldn’t look at you because I didn’t want to see the accusation in your eyes.”

His confusion skyrocketed. “What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t your fault Adam died. It was
mine
.”

Her declaration left him speechless.

“I’m the one who left the two of you home alone instead of shelling out ten bucks for a fucking babysitter. I shouldn’t have put you in charge, for God’s sake. You were too young!” She was crying openly now, each sob bringing a painful squeeze to his heart. “I felt so guilty afterwards. I could barely look at you without thinking of your brother, without thinking about what a terrible mother I was. I’m going to go to my grave knowing that I’m the reason my son is dead, Seth.”

Seth was absolutely dumbfounded. He hadn’t known what to expect from this phone call—he wouldn’t have even called if it weren’t for the tequila buzzing in his veins—but hearing his mother take the blame for the one thing he’d been agonizing over for the past nineteen years? Never would’ve guessed it.

“It’s not your fault,” he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Christ. How could you think it was your fault?
I
was supposed to be watching him.”

“
I
was supposed to be watching both of you.”

“I couldn’t catch up to the truck.”

“I shouldn’t have left my kids home alone.”

They both went quiet for a moment.

A wave of sadness washed over him as he was struck by a very depressing thought. “We’ve each suffered with this for almost two decades. And we suffered alone. Jesus, Mom, why didn’t we talk about this before now?”

“Because you never called me up drunk before and raised the subject.” She sniffled. “And vice versa.”

“We shouldn’t have to be drunk to talk about Adam.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” His mom sighed. “You know, baby, I’m starting to think we’ve suffered enough. Maybe it’s time we…”

“Time we did what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

“Time we accepted that a twisted man by the name of Jarvis Henderson was responsible for Adam’s death.”

His eyes began to sting. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time for that.”

“Seth…I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, Mom.”

A muffled female voice interrupted. “Missy! We need you back here!”

“Five minutes,” his mom called.

“Go,” Seth said gruffly. “They need you. We can finish this conversation tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Go. I love you.”

“Love you too, sugar pie.”

The phone fell out of his hand, which was beginning to shake again. He couldn’t believe his mother had blamed
herself
all these years.

He couldn’t believe they’d both been too guilt-ridden and grief-stricken to have this conversation a long time ago.

That phone call was like an injection of potassium to his bloodstream—he didn’t feel drunk anymore. His head cleared, stomach settled, vision stabilized. He was desperate to hear Miranda’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her. He’d broken up with her, for chrissake. And suddenly all his prior reasoning, all the things he’d said to her, sounded like nothing but a bunch of crappy excuses.

When his phone buzzed, he assumed it was his mother calling him back and answered without checking the display.

“Hey, I told you, we can talk tomo—”

“Sef?” a small voice asked.

He stiffened. “Sophie? Is that you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s going on? Where’s your mom?”

“She fell and now there’s lots of bruises.”

“What?”

Panic slammed into him. He dove off the bed and hurried to the door, ignoring the wave of wooziness that hit him. Shit, so much for not being drunk anymore. He swayed on his feet, struggling to listen to what Sophie was saying.

“And there’s blue bruises and green ones and—”

“Put your mom on the phone!” he ordered.

“I can’t. She’s sleeping.”

Sleeping…or unconscious? Oh Jesus. An icy rush of fear moved through his veins, making him feel even more light-headed.

Should he call 911? Sophie’s tone was too damn cheerful—he couldn’t imagine her sounding like that if Miranda was passed out at the bottom of the stairs, every limb in her body broken.

But he couldn’t ignore it either.

“I’m on my way,” he told Miranda’s daughter. “I want you to—”

She hung up.

“Damn it!” he roared.

In the hallway, he collided with Dylan, who took one look at his face and said, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” The floor beneath his feet dipped and he suddenly felt helpless. “Sophie called. Miranda may or may not have fallen. She might be hurt or she might be sleeping or who the fuck knows. I need to get over there right now.”

He bounded into the kitchen to look for his keys, finally finding them near the cordless phone cradle.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you get behind the wheel of a car,” Dylan spoke up from the doorway.

Frustration seized his throat. “Don’t even think about stopping me.”

His roommate sauntered over and snatched the keys from his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I’m driving.”

Miranda opened the door to find Seth and Dylan standing in front of her. And while Dylan looked handsome as hell in a black polo shirt and khaki cargo pants, Seth looked a little worse for wear. His black hair was sticking up in all directions and his wifebeater was wrinkled. Add to that his unshaven face and wild gray eyes, and he made one bewildering picture.

And yet her heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him.

“Hey, guys,” she said warily. “What’s going—”

She didn’t have time to finish because Seth pulled her into his arms and hugged her so tightly she couldn’t draw a breath. Gasping for air, she batted at his powerful shoulders and tried to wiggle away.

He instantly released her, the relief radiating from his body utterly palpable. “Thank God. I thought…”

She sucked some oxygen into her lungs before frowning at him. “You thought what?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Dylan announced. “I’m taking the Jeep, bro.”

Seth glanced at his friend. “But—”

“You can call a cab to take you home. Though I don’t imagine you’ll be coming home tonight. The groveling might take all night.”

Her frown deepened when she noticed the twinkle in Dylan’s green eyes. What the hell was he talking about?

Now that green-eyed gaze focused on her. “I’m glad to see you’re not bruised and/or unconscious. Sorry to ring the doorbell and run, but I’ve got somewhere to be, and trust me, it’s been a long time coming.”

Miranda had never been more confused in her entire life. She watched Dylan hurry off with a spring to his step, then stared at Seth, who seemed to be…swaying?

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“A little,” he said sheepishly.

“And you decided to come over here because…?” Maybe her tone was sharper than necessary, but this man had dumped her, for Pete’s sake! And now he was at her doorstep,
drunk
?

“Because Sophie called and said you fell.”

Miranda’s jaw dropped.
“What?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hurried inside and yelled for her daughter, who didn’t come running.