The Lucky One (28 page)

And Keith . . .

What if Nana and Logan were right? And assuming they were right—because after giving the matter some thought, she felt instinctively that it was all true—how could she have not seen it?

It was hard to admit that she could have misjudged him. She’d been dealing with the man for over ten years now, and though she’d never regarded him as a beacon of goodness, the idea of him sabotaging her personal life was something she’d never considered. Who would do something like that? And why? The way Nana described it—that he thought of her as a toy he didn’t want to share—had a ring of truth that made her neck tense as she drove.

What surprised her most was that in this small town, where secrets were nearly impossible to keep, she’d never even suspected it. It made her wonder about her friends and neighbors, but mostly it made her wonder about the men who’d asked her out in the first place. Why wouldn’t they simply have told Keith to mind his own business?

Because, she reminded herself, he was a Clayton. And those men didn’t argue for the same reason she didn’t press Keith when it came to Ben. Sometimes it was easier just to get along.

She really hated that family.

Of course, she was getting ahead of herself here. Just because Logan and Nana suspected that Keith was up to something didn’t necessarily make it true, she reminded herself. Which was why she was making this trip.

She took a left at the major intersection, heading toward an older neighborhood, one dominated by Craftsman-style homes and large, spacious porches. The streets were lined with massive trees, most at least a hundred years old, and she remembered that as a kid, it had always been her favorite neighborhood. It was a tradition among the families there to lavishly decorate the exterior of the homes on holidays, giving the place a picturesque, cheery feel.

His house was in the middle of the street, and she could just make out his car parked beneath the carport. Another car was parked behind it, and though it meant he had company, she didn’t feel like coming back later. After pulling to a stop in front of the house, she put up the hood on her raincoat and stepped out into the storm.

She splashed through shallow puddles that had accumulated on the walkway and climbed the steps to the porch. Through the windows, she could see a lamp blazing in the corner of the living room; a television nearby was broadcasting the latest race from NASCAR. The visitor must have insisted on it; there wasn’t a chance that the owner of the house had tuned it in. The man hated NASCAR, she knew.

She rang the doorbell and took a small step back. When his face appeared in the doorway, it took only an instant for him to recognize her. In his expression, she saw a mixture of surprise and curiosity, along with a trace of something else she hadn’t expected: fear.

His gaze traveled quickly up the road in both directions before coming to rest on her.

“Beth,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Adam.” She smiled. “I was wondering if you had just a couple of minutes. I’d really like to talk to you.”

“I’ve got company,” he said in a low voice. “It’s not a good time.”

As if on cue, she heard a woman’s voice call out from somewhere behind him, “Who is it?”

“Please?” Beth said.

He seemed to be calculating whether or not to close the door in her face before he sighed. “A friend,” he called out. He turned. “Give me a minute, okay?”

A woman appeared over his shoulder, holding a beer and wearing jeans and a T-shirt that were a little too snug. Beth recognized her as a secretary in Adam’s office. Noelle, or something like that.

“What does she want?” Noelle asked. It was obvious by her tone that the recognition was reciprocal.

“I don’t know,” Adam said. “She just dropped by, okay?”

“But I want to see the race,” she pouted, draping an arm possessively around his waist.

“I know,” he said. “I won’t be long.” He hesitated when he saw Noelle’s expression. “I promise,” he reassured her.

Beth wondered whether the whine she’d noticed in his tone had always been there, and if so, why she hadn’t noticed it before. Either he’d tried to hide it or she’d been willing to ignore it. She suspected the latter, and the thought left her feeling a bit deflated.

Adam stepped outside and closed the door behind him. As he faced her, she couldn’t tell whether he was frightened or angry. Or both.

“What is so important?” he asked. He sounded like an adolescent.

“Nothing important,” she countered. “I just came by to ask you a question.”

“About what?”

Beth willed him to look at her. “I want to know the reason you never called after our dinner date.”

“What?” He shifted from one foot to the other, reminding her of a skittish horse. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“I just didn’t, okay? It didn’t work out. I’m sorry. Is that what you’re here for? An apology?”

It came out like a whine, and she found herself wondering why she’d ever gone out with him.

“No, I’m not here for an apology.”

“Then what? Look, I’ve got company.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

As the question hung in the air, he glanced up and down the street again, and she realized what was going on.

“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you,” she said.

Though he tried to hide it, she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“Keith Clayton. My ex.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he swallowed again in an attempt to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She took a step closer. “What did he do? Did he threaten you? Scare you?”

“No! I don’t want to talk about this,” he said. He turned for the door and reached for the knob. She grabbed his arm to stop him, pushing her face close to his. His muscles tensed before relaxing.

“He did, didn’t he?” she pressed.

“I can’t talk about this.” He hesitated. “He . . .”

Though she’d suspected that both Logan and Nana were right, though her own intuition had prompted her to come here in the first place, she felt something crumple inside when Adam confirmed it.

“What did he do?”

“I can’t tell you. You should understand that more than anyone. You know how he is. He’ll . . .”

He trailed off, as if suddenly realizing that he’d said too much.

“He’ll what?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. He’s not going to do anything.” He stood straighter. “It didn’t work out between us. Just leave it at that.”

He opened the door. He paused, drawing a deep breath, and she wondered if he was about to change his mind.

“Please don’t come back,” he said.

Beth sat on her front porch in the swing, staring at the sheets of rain coming down, her clothes still wet. For the most part, Nana left her alone with her thoughts, intruding only to hand her a cup of hot tea and a warm, homemade peanut-butter cookie, but she’d been uncharacteristically silent when she’d done so.

Beth sipped the tea before realizing she didn’t want it. She wasn’t cold; despite the relentless downpour, the air was warm and she could see fingers of mist crawling along the property. In the distance, the driveway seemed to vanish into the grayish blur.

Her ex would be here soon. Keith Clayton. Every now and then, she’d whisper the name, making it sound like a profanity.

She couldn’t believe it. No, scratch that. She could—and did—believe it. Even though she’d wanted to slap Adam for being such a wimp about the situation, she knew she couldn’t really blame him. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t, nor had he ever been, the kind of guy who would have been picked first for a pickup basketball or baseball game. There wasn’t a chance that he would have stood up to her ex.

She only wished Adam had revealed how Keith had done it. It was easy to imagine; she had no doubt Adam rented his office from the Clayton family. Almost every business downtown did. Did he play the rent card? Or the “we can make life difficult for you” card? Or did he play the law enforcement card? How far had the man been willing to go?

Since she’d been sitting outside, she’d tried to figure out exactly how many times it had happened. There weren’t that many, maybe five or six, she thought, that had ended in much the same sudden, inexplicable way it had ended with Adam. That was counting Frank, which was what? Seven years ago? Had he been following her,
spying
on her, that long? The realization made her sick to her stomach.

And Adam . . .

What was it about the men she picked that made each of them roll over and play dead the moment Keith intervened? Yes, they were a powerful family, and yes, he was a sheriff, but whatever happened to being a man? Telling him to mind his own business? And why didn’t they at least come to her and tell her? Instead, they’d slunk off with their tails between their legs. Between them and Keith, she hadn’t had the best of luck with men. How did that saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? Was it her fault for picking such disappointing men?

Maybe, she admitted. Still, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Keith had been working behind the scenes to keep things exactly the way he wanted. As if he owned her.

The thought made her stomach roil again, and she wished that Logan were here. Not because Keith would be here soon to drop off Ben. She didn’t need him for that. She wasn’t afraid of Keith. She’d never been afraid of him because she knew that deep down he was a bully, and bullies were quick to back down when anyone stood up to them. It was the same reason Nana wasn’t afraid of Keith. Drake, too, had sensed that, and she knew he’d always made Keith nervous.

No, she wanted Logan here because he was good at listening, and she knew he wouldn’t interrupt her rant, or try to solve her problem, or get bored if she said, “I can’t believe he actually did that,” a hundred times. He would let her vent.

Then again, she thought, the last thing she wanted was to talk the anger out of her system. It was much better to let it simmer. She needed the anger when she confronted Keith—it would keep her sharp—but at the same time, she didn’t want to lose control. If she started screaming, Keith would simply deny it all before storming off. What she wanted, however, was for Keith to stay out of her private life—especially now that Logan was in the picture—without making Ben’s weekends with his father any worse than they already were.

No, it was better that Logan wasn’t here. Keith might overreact if he saw Logan again, even provoke Logan to action somehow, which could be a problem. If Logan so much as touched her ex, he’d find himself in jail for a long, long time. She had to talk to Logan about that later to make sure he understood how the deck was stacked in Hampton. But for now, she had to handle her little problem.

In the distance, headlights appeared and the car seemed first to liquefy, then solidify as it approached the house. She saw Nana peek through the curtains, then pull back. Beth rose from the swing and stepped toward the edge of the porch as the passenger door swung open. Ben scrambled out holding his backpack and stepped into a puddle, soaking his shoes. He didn’t seem to notice as he trotted toward the steps and up to the porch.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. They hugged before he looked up at her. “Can we have spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure, sweetie. How was your weekend?”

He shrugged. “You know.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know. Why don’t you go inside and change? I think Nana baked some cookies. And take off your shoes, okay?”

“Are you coming?”

“In a few minutes. I want to talk to your dad first.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not about you.”

He tried to read her expression, and she put her hand on his shoulder. “Go on. Nana’s waiting.”

Ben went inside as Keith rolled down his window a couple of inches. “We had a great time this weekend! Don’t let him tell you any different.”

His tone was full of an airy confidence. Probably, she thought, because Logan wasn’t around.

She took another step forward. “Do you have a minute?”

He stared at her through the crack before he slipped the car into park and shut off the engine. He pushed open the door, stepped out, and ran toward the steps. Once on the porch, he shook his head, sending a few drops of water flying before grinning at her. He probably thought he looked sexy.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Like I said, Ben and I had a great time this weekend.”

“Did you make him clean your kitchen again?”

The grin faded. “What do you want, Beth?”

“Don’t get sore. I just asked a question.”

He continued to stare at her, trying to read her. “I don’t tell you what to do with Ben when he’s with you, and I expect the same courtesy. Now what did you want to talk about?”

“A few things, actually.” Despite the disgust she felt, she forced a smile and motioned to the porch swing. “Would you like to sit down?”

He seemed surprised. “Sure,” he said. “But I can’t stay long. I’ve got plans this evening.”

Of course you do, she thought. Either that, or you want me to think that you do. The kind of reminder that had been typical since their divorce.

They took a seat on the swing. After sitting, he jiggled it back and forth before leaning back and spreading his arms. “This is nice. Did you do this?”

She tried to keep as much distance between them on the swing as she could. “Logan put it up.”

“Logan?”

“Logan Thibault. He works for Nana at the kennel now. Remember? You met him.”

He scratched his chin. “The guy that was here the other night?”

As if you don’t know. “Yes, that’s him.”

“And he’s okay with cleaning cages and scooping up crap?” he asked.

She ignored the obvious dig. “Uh-huh.”

He exhaled as he shook his head. “Better him than me.” He turned toward her with a shrug. “So what’s up?”

She considered her words carefully. “This is hard for me to say . . .” She trailed off, knowing it would make him more interested.

“What is it?”

She sat up straighter. “I was talking to one of my friends the other day, and she said something that just didn’t sit right with me.”