The Girl of Sand & Fog (15 page)

The adrenaline the alerts sent pumping through my
veins has left only panic in its wake. Bobby sounds so calm. So certain. And
yet the numbing fear won’t subside.

“I tried to call my mom. Chrissie didn’t answer.”

Bobby brushes the hair back from my face. “It
doesn’t mean anything.”

“Call Linda. Please, Bobby. She’ll know what’s
happening and I won’t be able to breathe until I know for sure.”

He kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll call. But you
need to stop worrying.”

He eases back from me, taps the screen and then
holds the phone to his ear. Jake and Zoe huddle close to me as we all watch
Bobby.

Jake gently pats my back. “It’s going to be OK,
Kaley. We’re all here for you. You just lean on me as much as you need to.”

The way he says that makes me cry harder and I
sink into him, ashamed that I’ve been so rotten to him all day—because he is
kind to Zoe and he’s being a really good friend to me right now—and I didn’t
realize before today that if something happened to Alan I couldn’t take that.
I’ve been so obsessed with my anger I’d forgotten that I love him.

I’ve always loved Alan.

Please let him be all right.

Somehow my insides grow even more jumpy.

The seconds pass in agonizing slowness. Bobby’s
pacing, running his fingers through his hair as he waits for the call to be
answered. It can’t be a good sign if Linda doesn’t answer her phone either—

Jake’s arm tightens around me.

“Mom,” Bobby says impatiently in a way that tells
me he’s just cut her off. My face snaps up. “I just saw the news about Alan. Is
everything all right?”

I can hear Linda’s voice but I can’t make out the
words. All Bobby keeps saying is
Aha, aha, aha.

“OK. See you tomorrow,” Bobby mumbles.

I leap from the bench and cross the pavement to
him. “What did she say?”

“He’s fine,” Bobby says softly, pulling me into
his arms and holding me. “It was his car. There was an accident, but he wasn’t
in it.”

“I don’t understand,” I mutter. I’m suffocating,
fear and heartache have made it impossible for my brain function. “Why would
the press reports say he was in a hospital?”

“It’s breaking news, Kaley. When a story moves
fast, the press gets it wrong sometimes.” He gently strokes my hair. “Alan’s
fine. Linda wouldn’t say he was if he wasn’t. He’s not even in the UK. Please,
baby, don’t cry. He’s fine.”

Too much is coursing through me. I wrap my arms
around him, the force of my relief robbing my body of strength, and I softly
weep into his neck. Everything loving Bobby has quieted inside me is no longer
quiet. I can’t contain it. I’m inside an avalanche of emotion, moments of the
past and present unleashed in my memory, old fears and forgotten hurts making
fresh wounds inside me.

“It’s all right, Kaley,” Bobby murmurs
soothingly, his lips moving in my curls. “Please, stop crying. He’s fine.”

I can’t will the tears away because it’s not all
right. And it won’t ever be. Not until I come face-to-face with Alan and get
the truth from him finally. Until he says I am his daughter, nothing inside me
will ever be complete. Until I know why my parents lied, what happened, it will
eat at me in ways small and large forever.

Bobby can’t take away this pain in me. No amount
of love can make this right. And as wonderful as Bobby is, loving him will
never be enough to make me whole.

* * *

I
sit on a patio lounger, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the ocean.

I hear the door open and turn my face to find
Bobby groggy and staring out at me. “Kaley, it’s the middle of the night. It’s
freezing. What are you doing out here?”

“Just thinking.”

He crosses the space between us, eases my body
forward, and sinks down on the lounger behind me. He surrounds me with his legs
and arms, and I lean back into him.

“Are you still upset?”

I shake my head.

“Then what’s going on?” he asks.

A faint hint of worry is in his voice this time.

I can feel him watching me, waiting.

I don’t want to wall him out, not now when we’ve
grown so incredibly close, but I’m not sure I can organize my thoughts and
feelings into something he’d understand. Something that would be safe to share
with him.

“You’ve been quiet since we got back to the
house,” he prods patiently.

“I’ve just been thinking about a lot of stuff.”

His hands start to lightly caress up and down my
arms. “What kind of stuff? Talk to me, Kaley. You should be able to tell me
anything. We’re both in this, deep.”

I look over my shoulder, arching a brow at him.
“Deep, huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Serious moment. Nasty
comment, huh? Don’t try to change the subject. Tell me what’s going on. I love
all of you. Not just”—he tickles briefly atop my panties—“here.”

“But it’s your favorite part,” I taunt.

“No. Your heart is. All other parts of you are
useless without your heart.”

I nestle into his chest. “You’re a pretty amazing
guy, Bobby. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you.”

He gently makes us sway in a comforting motion.
“Am I amazing enough that you’ll trust me enough to tell me what’s going on
with you?”

I can hear him breathing, steady and patiently as
he waits for me. I sigh. He’s right. After this week, I should be able to share
anything with him. I don’t know why I’m being emotionally wimpy in this.

“Can I ask you something first?” I whisper.

His chest shimmies in a silent laugh. “You can
ask me anything. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m an open book when it
comes to you.”

“It’s just—” I fumble for a moment.

He leans in so he can see my face. “Yes?”

“You’re eighteen. You talk a lot about taking off.
But you don’t talk about why. And you never talk about your birth parents.”

“No, I don’t. They’re not relevant to my life.”

I turn in the chair to face him.

“How can you say that? Don’t you have questions?
Haven’t you even thought about unsealing your adoption record? Finding your
birth parents? Don’t you want to know who they are and why they gave you up?”

The expression in his eyes changes and I can tell
this was not the conversation he was expecting to have with me tonight.

He studies me for a moment, trying to assess
where I’m going with this, then exhales loudly and runs a hand through his
hair.

“I thought about it once. For about a half
second, and then I realized whatever questions I have, the answers wouldn’t be
about me. What happened in the past is about them. And I don’t need to know it.
I don’t even want to.”

My eyes widen. “Not at all?”

He meets my eyes squarely. “Nope, not at all.” He
frowns. “Why are we talking about this?”

I settle back against his body and stare at the
ocean. “I hate having questions. Not knowing the truth. Wondering what it is
about me that—”

I pause.

“That
what
, Kaley?”

I groan. “I don’t know if I can explain this.”

“Just try. I can’t know what’s going on with you
unless you tell me. And there isn’t anything about you that I don’t want to
know.”

The way he says that is as soothing as his touch.
I’m wrapped in his arms, surrounded by love. A small part of me feels calmer,
stronger, and resilient enough to share this. To tell him the hurts locked in
the vault of my heart that I’ve never told anyone.

“When I was little I used to come here with Neil.
A lot. I didn’t remember the vacations were here before we went to the
Boardwalk and everything was familiar. But Neil used to bring me here with my
aunts and my cousins from his side of the family. We’d have long Stanton family
weekends. They were so fun. The grown-ups would barbecue and they’d hang out on
the patio all through the night, laughing and talking so fast I couldn’t keep
up. And everyone spoiled me, especially Grandma Michelle, because I was the
only grandchild.”

He lays his chin on my shoulder, cuddling me
closer. “Those sound like happy memories. Why are you sad telling me about it?”

I take in a deep breath to steady my spinning
emotions.

“Because when Neil died they all just
disappeared. I never saw any of them again. Not even Grandma Michelle. It used
to hurt so much wondering what was wrong with me that everyone I loved just
disappeared. And then when I got old enough to figure out why, I knew it was
because Neil wasn’t my dad. That I was nothing to them. But it still hurt and I
can’t ever completely stop wondering what’s wrong with me that they could all
just disappear.”

“Oh, Kaley, nothing is wrong with you,” he
exclaims tenderly, turning me in his arms and painting tender kisses across my
face. “Whatever happened, that’s about them. Not you. How could you think it
could ever be about you? You were a little girl. It’s not about you.”

The heavy emotion between us is nearly too much.
“You disappeared.”

His brows shoot up. “What are you talking about?”

“When we were little. You were like practically
my only friend and you went away, too.”

Bobby pouts in sympathy and makes a cocoon of his
body around me. “I was eight. It doesn’t count.”

“It did to me. First the Stantons. Then Alan left
Mom and me. Then you. Everyone I loved just disappeared in a single year. And I
used to cry and wonder what’s wrong with me.”

A ragged breath escapes Bobby’s chest. “There’s
nothing wrong with you. It’s not about you. It’s about them. I wish I could
make you believe that.”

I rub my hand against my dripping nose. “It makes
me so afraid sometimes. How much I love you. I don’t know if I could take
losing someone I love again.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, lying back and taking me
with him until I’m nestled on his chest. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not
ever going to disappear. I’ll always be here, Kaley. Haven’t you figure out yet
that I love you?”

CHAPTER 15

Six
weeks later

I
glide slowly up Bobby’s erection, rocking my hips before I plant my hands on
his chest and freeze. Every glorious muscle of his body quakes.

I stare down at him, his face taut as he
struggles to hold back, and I battle not to move. I love to tease and taunt and
battle him with my body. His hips flex upward into me as his fingers close on
my hips.

“Don’t move,” I warn. “If you move I’ll stop.”

His eyes float open. “You won’t stop.”

“How can you be sure?” I ask, my voice breathy
and betraying.

“Because you love me.” He moves again and I
groan. “And you are definitely not done torturing me.”

I lean forward until my breasts are dangling
close to his face and he takes one nipple in his mouth, twirling it with his
tongue, and caresses the other. My lower muscles tighten around him, he
twitches inside me, and we both shudder.

His body moves up into me as he drags my face
down for his kiss. His arms tighten around my hips, clutching me to him as he
devours me with his mouth.

Bobby breaks the kiss, lying back on his pillow. “Are
you done yet?”

I nip my way up his neck, then pause on his chin.
“Not even close, bud.”

A growling groan escapes his lips before his
mouth comes crashing back and I’m turned beneath him on the bed. My laughter
vibrates down his throat and mine, then rapidly fades with the sudden thrusting
of his body. I close my eyes, feeling the buildup inside him, and I cry out, my
nails digging into his back. My shudders move down my limbs, rippling waves
that roll into him as he lets loose inside me.

I open my eyes to find Bobby staring at me.

“Nope, I think you’re right. You’re not even
close to done. How long is this going to continue?”

He kisses me and pulls out, lying back on the bed
and taking me with him until I’m nestled into his side.

I shake my head, amused. “Are you complaining?”

“I’m not sure. Depends on why you’re hypersexual
lately. If it’s because you’ve been gone for a week then, no, I’m not
complaining. It was agony you being in Santa Barbara over the holidays. I hated
not being with you for Christmas.”

I pretend to think it over, but inside I’m a
little hurt. Hypersexual? Really, Bobby? “So suspicious. It’s your Christmas
gift.”

He picks up the very naughty panties I somehow
managed to buy with Chrissie watching me shop, and laughs. “I like how you wrapped
my present.”

I drop a kiss on his nose. “You liked unwrapping
it better.”

His eyes gleam. “Definitely.”

I make an aggravated groan. “I need to get
dressed. I need to get out of here.”

He rakes back his hair with his hand, frowning.
“I thought you were staying the night.”

I kiss his neck and climb from the bed, trying to
figure out where my clothes got dumped.

“I can’t. Chrissie’s been all up in my shit since
Christmas. Snapping over everything. I don’t want to push it. I don’t want to
get busted. And I definitely don’t want to get grounded.”

“Grounded, huh? You’ll be eighteen in a few
weeks. Chrissie wouldn’t really try to ground you, would she?”

I grab my panties from his hand. “Ah—yes. She’s
been really sad, upset lately. It’s the only reason she’s been on my back about
the smallest things. She blows over everything. I feel kind of bad for my mom.”

Bobby turns on his side. “Are you going to tell
me what happened over Christmas? You’ve been off, too, since you got back.”

I shrug, fighting to keep my thoughts from my
face. “Nothing happened. It was just your standard Parker family Hallmark
Christmas.”

Bobby sits up on the edge of the bed, alertly
watching me as I dress. “Exactly what is a standard Parker family Christmas?”

I put on my bra. “You know. Mexican food on the
patio. No tree because we’re at Grandpa Jack’s and he hates commercial
Christmas. Modest number of presents. Then all of us hanging out together at
the beach.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It was nice.”

“Then why do you sound—I don’t know—angry when
you talk about it?”

I flush.

Angry? I didn’t know I was so obvious. I make a
show of searching for my shoes. “Things can get intense with Chrissie. She’s so
emotionally exposed and oozes 24/7 sometimes. She floods the fucking airways
with it. Especially over the holidays. It made our afternoon Christmas Day
ritual even worse this year.”

Bobby crosses the room, reaches under a chair,
and hands me my shoes. I sink down on the bed to put on my Converse. I can feel
him watching, patiently waiting for me to explain that last part.

I jerk the laces into order and then sigh. “Fuck,
you’re really going to make me tell you about this? It’s so creepy and awful.
We go to the cemetery in the afternoon. Every Christmas since my dad died. Only
this year Mom took Krystal and the twins to visit Jesse. Just Khloe was spared.
She got to stay home with Grandpa Jack.”

I turn toward the mirror, pretending to focus on
my hair. Bobby comes up behind me, encircles me with his arms, and lightly
paints kisses across the back of my head.

“I’m sorry. That must be rough for you.”

Emotion swells in my throat. I let out a ragged
breath. “The cemetery outing wasn’t hard.
That
I’m used to. I didn’t get
a present or a card this year from Alan. Again. Neither did Mom, which I’m sure
is why she’s all butt-hurt these days.”

Bobby’s eyes lock on mine in the glass. “I’m
sorry, baby.”

I search for something funny to say. “I guess
Alan will have to die before Khloe will ever get to see her father on the
holidays,” I quip before I realize that it was mistake to say
that
.

Bobby’s eyes flash. “I wasn’t sure when you
returned to the ’Sades what I was feeling in you. It’s like you’re trying to
fuck something out of you. It was a turn-on when I thought it was us not being
together for so long, right up to the point when I figured out you’re pretty
much just angry. All the shit stirred up in you gain. And I’m not sure how I
feel knowing that all we’ve been doing the last two days is Kaley anger
fucking.”

My cheeks are now burning crimson. “Fuck you,
Bobby, if you think that.”

He steps back from me, grabs his jeans from the
floor and pulls them on. “I love you, Kaley. I get what’s going on with you,
how emotionally complicated it makes you at times. But don’t expect it not to
bug me occasionally.”

I grab my tote and pull the strap across my body.
“Well, since I’m bugging you so much, I’m out of here.”

I’m almost to the door before he stops me. I try
to pull away and he holds me in a tight cocoon of his body. “Talk to me when
you’re angry. It’s better for both of us when you do.”

I struggle not to cry.

He’s right. Bobby is always right.

I exhale loudly. “Fine. And I did talk to you.
Just now. Remember? And I really have to go.”

He kisses me. “Have you asked Chrissie about the
Tahoe trip? I think it would be good for us to spend a week alone together.” He
grins. “I know it would be good for me.”

I laugh, but inside—
fuck, snowboarding. Like
that excuse is going to work twice in a millennium with Chrissie.

I lift my brows, widening my eyes. “I’d love it,
Bobby, but I’m not even going to try to ask my mom. Things are
no bueno
with her. I shouldn’t leave her right now. Not now.”

He nods, his eyes softening in understanding.
“Then I guess that means you’re not coming back tonight.”

I laugh harder, pushing him away. “Fuck, you’re
such a jerk at times.”

He smiles. “Nope, I just really love my
girlfriend.”

I loop my arms around his neck. “Then you’re
forgiven. I’ll text you later once I know what’s up at my house. Maybe I can
get out.”

“Don’t push, Kaley. Do what you need to do.”

I kiss him, step back, and then rush out the
door.

I climb into my car and make the short drive to
my house. As I pull into the driveway, I notice a black Mercedes parked by the
front door.

Ah, Chrissie has company.

Maybe I’m finally going to get to meet one of the
guys Linda’s been fixing her up with.

Crap, it’s so weird that Mom’s dating.

But maybe I will be able to get out of the house
tonight.

I pull the key from the ignition, grab my bag
from the passenger seat and hurry up the walk. I put in my earbuds and click on
my music before I enter because the twins have been out of control since break
started. And with the earbuds in I won’t hear Chrissie yelling at me to do
something so it’s not like I’m really ignoring her.

Fuck, I just want to get to my room as quickly as
possible. I open the front door. Hallelujah. Empty. I cross the entry toward
the hallway and as I pass the open space living area, I halt mid-step.

After a year MIA he finally showed up.

Standing in the family room.

Alan.

I hang back, trying to figure out what I’m
feeling and what I should say. Seeing Alan causes all my chaotic emotions to
amplify. He’s aged in a year and he looks tired. He doesn’t look well. It
should please me to see signs of aging, and I am disappointed to discover that
it doesn’t.

Where the fuck is everyone?

Where’s Mom?

He’s alone and it definitely doesn’t feel like a
shitstorm has happened here. Oh no, am I the first one to run into him? Good
one, Chrissie, not to be here when Alan gets here so I have to deal with this
on my own.

What the fuck am I supposed to say and do?

I drop my tote and it lands on the tile. He
whirls to face me, and the first thing I notice is he doesn’t smile. His eyes
fix on me, widen—
fuck, are you surprised that I’m here or that your daughter
has changed in a year
—and then his gaze grows intense.

I wait for him to do something—he used to always
come give me a hug—but today nothing. Just that freaking black stare.

I pull the earbuds out. “How long have you been
here?”

His eyes flash and his features tense, as if he
was expecting something else from me.

He rakes a hand through his hair in an anxious,
uncomfortable way, and then stills. Shit, he’s doing it again. Not talking and
staring at me.

Yep, pretty striking resemblance, wouldn’t you
say, Pop? It must suck to have to see it, since you’re so committed to
not
being my dad.
Maturation
is a bitch. I couldn’t look more like you if
Mom made me from an Alan Manzone kit in the garage.

The tension in the room becomes suffocating as I
wait for him to do something with this fucking awkward moment. He’s the adult;
shouldn’t he save us?

Come on, Alan, why don’t you say something
useful?

Like,
hello, I’m your dad.

Or maybe,
hello, you’re my daughter.

I’d settle for
I know I’ve been gone a year,
I’m sorry I was a prick, but I’m your father
…

Stupid, Kaley, that’s never going to happen.

“Well, hello to you, too, Kaley,” Alan says
affectionately, and for some reason it has the power to make me flush. “I just
got in to LA a few hours ago.”

“Does Mom know you’re here?”

“No, I wanted to surprise her.”

He smiles.

Oh fuck, he doesn’t know anything.

“Oh, there is definitely going to be a surprise
here today.” I debate whether I should get out of the house now, and then hurry
to the kitchen.

I start rummaging through the refrigerator, not
because I’m hungry but because I need something to do as I try to figure out my
next move. I don’t know if I should stay—if Mom is going to need me—or if I
should get the hell out of here before the
fun
starts.

I hear sound behind me. Crap, Alan followed me. I
pull out some sort of ready-made pasta salad, slam the fridge door, and grab a
fork from the drawer.

After popping off the lid, I lean against the
counter, poking at the noodles, wishing Alan away and wishing I were the
priority so that we could finally get a few factoids out in the open about who
this baby’s daddy is.

Fuck, that’s all my mom needs, for me to have
this confrontation now. I shove a too-large forkful of pasta in my mouth and
choke it down.

I can feel Alan watching me eat, and it’s
completely unnerving.

“You used to like me a little, love,” he chides
good-humoredly.

A stupid joke; how the fuck does he do it? Why am
I the one feeling as if I’m in the wrong?