Sidewalk Flower (31 page)

“No!
 
He’s not going to die!
 
You don’t
know what you’re saying!”
 
She realized a
little too late that she’d just yelled at Lucky.
 
He covered his mouth while his face reddened
but he held his tongue.
 

This was a mess.
 

Mincing words with Lucky who would never
understand the way they did things in this world was useless.
 
In my
world
, she thought sadly.
 
“I’m
sorry, Lucky, but I have dealt with him like this before.
 
I know what’s wrong.
 
He doesn’t have to go to the hospital and
we’re not calling anyone.
 
Unless he passes out.
 
Then we’ll call.”

“Fine.
 
I’ll be in the living room.”
 
He turned and left.
 
The back of his shirt was soaked from the
water still in his hair.
  

She understood why Lucky was mad but he
needed to let her handle the situation.
 
She hated speaking to him like he was a complete outsider.
 
What a night it had turned out to be.

She stood up and closed the door, needing
to speak freely to Jaxon as soon as he seemed lucid enough.
 
His shakes had evened out and his color was
coming back.
 
Soon, he should appear
human again.
 

“Jaxon, you’re gonna be okay.
 
You’re gonna be okay.”
 
She held his hand in her own.
 

Jaxon shifted, stretched one leg further
out in front of him and tried to make like he was going to get up off the
floor.
 
But as soon as he gained two
inches, he sank back down.
 
“Shit, not
good
.”
 
He croaked out
each word.
 
He rubbed his throat and
grimaced.

“Well, what the hell do you expect?
 
I can’t believe you drank.
 
And the Antabuse.
 
Jaxon, come on, you know better.”

“She’s gone, Trissy.”
 
He choked through his words.
 
“We had a fucking insane fight and she was
crazy.
 
She threw the fucking lamps at my
head.
 
God, my baby was crying and
screaming and so scared.
 
I tried to
quiet her down and have her stay in here.
 
But then Vangie came in and snatched her from me and took off.
 
She said I’d never see her again.
 
I spent four hours trying to call but she
won’t answer.
 
Her parents won’t tell me
anything.
 
Her sister neither.
 
She’s gone, Trissy.”
 
He was quietly sobbing, and still
choking.
 

“Oh, hun.
 
It’s gonna be okay.
 
She’ll be back.
 
She always comes back.”

“No, this was different.
 
She never got physically violent like
that.
 
I mean, that last lamp she threw
would have hit Maryellie if I hadn’t tucked her under me.
 
What am I gonna do?
 
I can’t lose my baby, Trissy.
 
I can’t.”

He was screwed, at least
temporarily.
 
She’d go hunt Vangie down
herself but getting arrested for homicide wouldn’t help their cause.
 
Jaxon would have to wait until Vangie wanted
something and came back.
 

Or until one of her
relatives caved and called.
 

But Jaxon was right; she’d never gotten
physical before, and not at the detriment of her daughter.
 
Verbal abuse flung around this place like ape
shit at the gorilla enclosure but never something like what had happened
tonight.
 
She cradled Jaxon in her
arms.
 
She truly felt for him now.

“Look, I’ll make some calls when the hour
gets a little more decent, okay?
 
We’ll
find her.
 
It’ll be okay.”

A half-hour passed and while Jaxon was
still out of his mind with worry, he had at least recuperated from the
self-induced poisoning.
 
She handed him
the last two ounces of water from his cup.
 

“Thank you for coming, Trissy.
 
I forgot you had company.
 
You look like hell.”

She let out a sigh.
 
Now
that things
had
calmed and Jaxon was no longer on the verge of death, her thoughts skipped to
Lucky.
 
What would she tell him?
  
He’d been out on the couch for over an hour
now.
 
And, he'd witnessed for himself her
intense devotion to Jaxon.
 
The wild eyes
she’d probably laid on Lucky when he kept insisting they get medical
attention.
 
Surely he saw her for the
crazy person she was now.
 

The person she had to be.
 

But for as loyal as she was to Jaxon, it
broke her heart that her night with Lucky had been ruined.
 
No way would they get another chance like
that.
 
Tomorrow and every day after would
be wickedly busy.
 
For
the both of them, if he still wanted the touring carpenter job.
 
She’d understand if he let the offer go and
returned home instead.
 
Either way, she’d
learned one thing tonight—she cared about Lucky and their time together.
  
If she hadn’t been so overwhelmed with all
the intense, new feelings he gave her, she’d have required a promise of her
own.
 
He should know how special he was
to her, too.
 

“What a mess,” she whispered to the room.

“What’s that, darl’?”

“Jaxon, I came over here, I mean, I was
with Lucky, he and I, I left that to come here.
 
He’s probably pissed and confused out there right now.
 
And I’m in here with you.”

“Then why don’t you go out there to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Am I keeping you here, Trissy?”

She wouldn’t answer him.
 

* * * *

Fuck. Me.
 
He’d found a new way to screw over his best
girl, again.
 
But shit, if she hadn’t
come over, he’d have had no one to tell him Maryellie was going to be
okay.
 
For all the crap he’d pulled on
Trissy lately, there’d been a time when she’d been closer to him than any other
human being, ever.
 
Her judgment never
strangled his wild ambitions.
 
Her trust
hadn’t wavered in sixteen years.
 
Not
even the fucking million and a half times when it should have.
 
She was his in a way he’d never planned for
her to be.
 
Fuck, it was wrong.
 
He flattened his palms against his head at
his pounding temples; maybe he could squeeze the selfish prick out, for her
sake.
 
And let her go.

“Hey, let me get you some aspirin.”

He stopped her with his weak, sweaty
hand.
 
“Trissy, how long’ve we been doing
this?”

Her face scrunched up as she thought
about it but the question really wasn’t for her.

“Sixteen years.
 
I’ve had you that long,” he answered for her.

“Yeah, and I think you need to get some
rest for the next sixteen hours.
 
At least.
 
You look
and smell like hell,” she said, going to her knees to clean up rags.
 
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay here tonight.”

“Trissy, sit still for a sec and hear
me.”

She did, turning her once spark-fired
blue eyes on him.
 
The only way he could
look her in those eyes was by reminding himself he’d never taken advantage of
her in certain ways he’d done with countless others who hadn’t meant crap to
him.
 

Because his karma was bananas and his
timing even worse, it was his fault she didn’t know where she should be
tonight.
 
He’d picked up on whatever she
and Lucky had started as soon as he’d seen their interactions at the
party.
 
He couldn’t keep her caught in
his web.
 
His cousin was a good guy
willing to do things for Trissy he hadn’t done.
 
For Christ’s sake, she’d taken the day off to be with Lucky.
 
What he owed her now was the clear understanding
that she didn’t belong to him.
 

Without hesitation, he got down on his
hands and knees and crawled over to where Trissy sat.
 
He fixed himself, determined and ready to set
her free the only way he knew how.
 

“Trista,” he called her name properly,
maybe as a warning.
 
Hell, who knew at
this point?
 
Then
stretched his neck until his chin bumped hers.
 
His knuckles planted fiercely in the carpet
to keep him from falling over, he had no qualms about kissing her.

* * * *

Lucky had grown tired of hanging out and
waiting on Jaxon’s couch.
 
He’d already
fished up the broken shards of lamp and straightened the framed nighttime
skyline of Sydney hanging on the wall.
 
He’d even taken the liberty of dusting away the mounds of pink confetti
covering almost every table top in the home.
 
But he left some of it.
 
Jaxon may
want the reminder.
 
At this point, he was
either seconds away from crashing on the sofa or going outside for some fresh
air.
 

But he couldn’t sleep, not yet.
 
Not until he saw Trista again.
 
Held her.
 
Apologized for thinking he knew what was best
when it came to Jaxon when he clearly didn’t.
 
Pick up where they’d left off.

He made his way out to Jaxon’s
beautifully landscaped backyard for some fresh air.
 
The home’s stucco walls resembled an old
Spanish mission with the western facing portions setting their sights on the
drowning sun and the water in the distance.
 
Lord what he’d give for a set of those incredible, large wooden-framed
windows.

For a moment, he sat down on the patio
furniture but it was entirely too comfortable and would have lulled him to
sleep like a baby.
 
And the only sleep he
cared to have tonight included Trista wrapped up in his arms.
 
What was taking her so long?
 
It’s
gotta be past two in the morning by now.
 
Maybe she and Jaxon had conked out in Maryella’s room, wasted from the
energy they’d spent on the near death experience.
 

When Trista had closed Maryella’s door
earlier, he’d taken it as a sign that she needed to have a few choice words
with his cousin.
 
He now understood how
very real the situation was with Maryella and why Trista insisted on privacy
where Jaxon was concerned.

So, instead of succumbing to the plush
cushions of the outdoor chaise lounge, he did what any country boy would do and
went for a walk.
 
After a few long
strides, he came to the first of those big nice windows he’d noticed
before.
 
The wooden slatted blinds on
this one hadn’t been pulled shut and a dim light poked through.
 
This must be Maryella’s room.
 

He stepped closer to get a good feel for
the type of wood used in the frame.
 
He’d
almost convinced himself that Trista and Jaxon had fallen asleep inside, but
when he leaned in to the glass, he saw how incredibly wrong he was.
 
Lord,
what in the hell?
 
He was dying to
shove off from the windowsill but couldn’t.
 
His feet were glued in place.
 
Jaxon and Trista sat on the floor, Jaxon on all fours, leaning into her,
his lips to hers.
 
Trista?
 
Darlin’?
 
She pulled back.

Thank God she’d pulled back.
 
But then Jaxon leaned in again, and kissed
her, again!
 
Longer
this time.
 
She pulled back again
or maybe she’d just fallen backward.
 
But
by the third time, he was too sick to his stomach to stand anymore.
 
Lord,
why?
 
Why is she letting him do that to her?