Never Say Never, Part Three (Second Chance Romance, Book 3) (3 page)

“They’re out. I don’t have to give you that information.”
Amanda said, glancing at the roof again.

“I’m their mother, I have legal rights to know where they are.”
 

“You’re a criminal.”

“That doesn’t take away my rights!”
Emily half-yelled it and her old friend stumbled back a step. She calmed herself. “Just tell me where they are.”
 

“Becci is at a sleepover, she’ll be away all weekend. Jared is on a school trip.”
 

Emily examined Amanda closely. There was strain in every feature and movement. She had crow’s feet around her eyes, her lips were drawn into a thin line, and her usually loose and silken hair was tied up tight.
 

“Fine. But I will be back to see them again.”
 

“I don’t advise you to come back. My husband has been very clear on this. You are not to see the children because you will only negatively impact their lives.”
 

It sounded as if she’d been forced to learn a script and keep it on repeat.
 

“Amanda, you need to free yourself from this before it’s too late. Trust me. This man will be the end of you.”
 

 
Amanda’s pink lipstick was smudged at the corners, as if she’s slathered it on it a hurry moments before.
 

“You are just jealous,”
she said, then marched back into the house and slammed the door shut behind her.

That was the height of delusional and there wasn’t a chance Amanda truly believed what she’s said. Emily traipsed back to the car, deflated and mildly concerned about her ‘friend’. Old habits died hard, but she didn’t cherish the concept of Brian making another woman his ‘bitch’.

She opened the car up and got into the driver’s seat, then sat for a while, looking back up at the place.
 

A curtain twitched upstairs and Becci appeared for a second before Amanda dragged her away.
 

“Sleepover, my ass.”
Emily grunted, but she didn’t get back out the car. It was a pointless escapade. Amanda wouldn’t let her in and she couldn’t break in. There were too many cameras around the place now –
Brian had obviously gone to town of late –
and it wouldn’t sit well in the eyes of a judge in a custody hearing.

Emily shifted around, eager to do something, anything, other than be consumed by depression. If only she could make things right, prove herself to Chase, prove herself to everyone.

She took out her phone, no messages, then typed in Chase’s cell number. She stared at it, finger hovering over the green button.
 

“I have a better idea.”
She said it out loud.
 

She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, started the engine and zoomed off down the street. He’d listen to her one way or another!

CHAPTER FIVE

The elevator doors slid open without a sound and she stepped past the attendant with a smile. Albeit a bloody nervous smile. It was a Saturday morning. He had to be in.

“Thanks,”
she said to the man in the suit with the comical hat on his head.
 

“The pleasure is all mine.”
And he didn’t say it in the horribly sleazy way she was accustomed to, either. Hopefully, that was a good sign.
 

Emily walked down the hall to Chase’s apartment and stood in front of it for a few minutes. If she could explain what had happened properly, perhaps he’d find it in his heart to forgive her.
 

It was a long shot, but she had to let him know that she was remorseful. Under normal circumstances she’d never hurt anyone. She still couldn’t believe it, but Brian had testified that she’d argued with him that night.
 

He’d played the grieving husband for the court, telling them she had a drinking problem, that she’d physically wrested the keys from his grip and refused to go anywhere unless he allowed her to drive.
 

It wasn’t her character at all, but no amount of convincing would sway the jury. The evidence was there: she’d been in the driver’s seat after the crash, her fingerprints all over the wheel.
 

Brian had taken the knock as a political figure, especially one who lobbied against drinking and driving.
 

Emily knocked once.
 

The door clicked open moments later.
 

“Oh my, I wondered when we could expect a visit from you, dear.”
Chastity was in her usual black splendor –
a satin scarf paired with a silk blouse and tailored pants. She wore a grin which bit at Emily’s constitution.

That ruthlessness was on show today. No veneers for Miss Mock Johnny Cash. Emily took a moment to appreciate that private joke.
 

“Well?”
Chastity asked, flashing more of those perfectly bleached teeth. “Aren’t you going to come in?”
 

This was the last person Emily had wanted to run into, barring Brian of course. Or Janet. Or Amanda. Okay, so there were a lot of people she didn’t want to run into, but Chastity definitely cracked the top three on that list.
 

The pretentious woman moved aside and gave a gracious gesture for Emily to enter. Chase wasn’t home –
there wasn’t a cold chance in hell his sister would let her in if he was. Emily half-turned to leave.
 

“Leaving so soon?”
 

“No, of course not.”
She let pride devour her and stepped into the stylish entrance area of the apartment. Was Chase at the office? Maybe she could make it there before he left and get to him before dearest ‘Chas’
got to him.
 

“What a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to drink? Beer, water, a cup of antifreeze perhaps?”
 

“Really, Chastity, I thought open hostility was below your station.”
Emily mocked.
 

“Given the present company, I thought it best to sink to a certain level or repartee.”
 

Emily gave a low growl in her throat, then silenced herself. She wouldn’t give the other woman the satisfaction of her anger. What a cow.

“Come to see my brother I assume?”
Crisp steps took Chastity over to the sink, where she poured herself a glass of water. She took it into her mouth in tiny slurping sips.
 

“It’s none of your business what I do or who I talk to.”
 

“As it is none of your business what my brother does. Though, I suppose it’s only fair you know certain details of his life.”
She gave a little giggle and Emily gritted her teeth. This couldn’t be good.
 

“I’d rather to talk to Chase in person. Get the actual facts rather than a garbled version from a bitter woman. You look like you’re a widower, by the way.”
 

“Petty words from a low class girl. What should I have expected, however? Better? Certainly not.”
She drew the scarf from her neck in a long stream of satin and let it drift to the countertop. She held herself like a Queen, or the poor imitation of one.
 

“Say what you want to say. I don’t have time for your theatrics.”
 

“You are aware of Janet and Chase’s engagement, oui?”
 

“Vividly.”
Emily couldn’t keep the bitterness from her answer.
 

Chastity tittered again. “Then I am sure you will be overjoyed to hear they are getting married.”
 

“I don’t mean to be crude, but what the fuck are you talking about, bitch?”
Emily couldn’t resist. Swearing in the woman’s presence was a sure fire way to get her back up. She loved the reaction, the stiffening of the neck, the pursing of the lips.
 

Chastity touched her slicked back hair –
checking that the curse word hadn’t dislodged a hair, no doubt –
and cleared her throat. “Your class never ceases to amaze me.”
 

“As your pretention does for me.”
 

“My point is, stripper girl, Chase and Janet have set the date. In three months from now, they will be wed.”
 

Over her dead body! “Whatever you say. I’ll speak to Chase about it.”

“I’m afraid he has no interest in speaking to you, given that you killed his parents.”
 

Something tweaked in the back of Emily’s brain. She cocked her head to one side and examined Little Miss Black Boobs. “Don’t you mean ‘our’?”
 

“What are you on about?”
 

“You said ‘his parents’
instead of ‘our parents’.”

Chastity went even paler –
if it was possible. “Semantics. Don’t try and distract from the crux of the issue, stripper. You see, my brother is tired of your mistreatment. You were a poison, using him for his resources. You sucked him dry. He’s exhausted from your betrayal and he doesn’t want to see you again.”
 

They were the words Emily had repeated to herself since she’d last seen him. The sentiments of worthlessness. She didn’t have a chance with him anymore, but she was still drawn to him. They were miles apart in distance and their hearts, but it was as if they could touch each other through a veil.
 

A shadow of need and desire.
 

But now she wasn’t worthy of those sensations. It burned at her each day, breaking apart her strength.
 

“You’re a vicious little liar and classless to boot. I suggest you leave and don’t return. It’s what my brother wants.”
 

Emily gripped her handbag tight under her arm. “All right, I’ll leave. But only because I know that Chase is across town and not here. I will speak to him and I don’t believe a word of your poison. Your lies. Good afternoon, Chastity.”
 

She left the apartment door open on her way out. She wouldn’t let that horrid woman see her tears, even though they already brimmed at the bottom of her lids. It was too much to handle.

She had to get back to her apartment and spend some time alone. She had to figure it out.
 

If there was a way.

CHAPTER SIX

Emily stumbled down the front stairs of the building, holding back the tears with the sheer force of her will.
 

Chastity was a bullshitter, but the fact remained: she didn’t deserve Chase after all that had happened. She didn’t deserve affection when she’d messed up this much. Her vision blurred but she barreled onwards regardless.

She looked down, shielding herself from having to take in the surroundings. A woman laughed nearby and she sank inwards. It couldn’t be at her, could it?

Emily slammed into a concrete wall and toppled backwards onto her ass. Perfect. Just what she’d needed.
 

“Shit, are you okay?”
A guy knelt beside her and offered his hand. He had spectacles on, but they were squared off and snazzy. His hair was cut short, skin tanned, good looking, not that it mattered.
 

She swallowed a couple times. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,”
she said to the concrete wall, a.k.a. the dude with the caring eyes.
 

“No problem. Neither was I, to be honest.”
He glanced around at the papers scattered across the sidewalk. “I’d better get these before they blow away.”

Emily got up and helped him collect the papers into a messy bundle.
 

“I’m Joseph, by the way,”
he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
 

Those tears hadn’t left her quite yet. She struggled with a brave face. “Emily.”
 

“Nice to meet you. I know I hit you hard, but I didn’t realize it was ‘crying’
hard,”
he quipped, but she didn’t smile. “And I’m making it worse. Good job, Joseph,”
he muttered to himself.

Several women strolled by, watching warily in case she was in trouble. Crying women set people on high alert, apparently.

“Emily, are you okay?”
 

“No.”
 

“Emily, do you want to talk about it?”
 

She formed another ‘no’, but didn’t release it.
 

“I killed the parents of the man I was in love with,”
she yelled, and a few people stopped and stared. “Would you want to talk about that, Joseph?”
That dam broke and tears spilled everywhere, like blood on the battlefield. Her heart was the wounded soldier.