Tidal (29 page)

happened to him? What if—

“Willow, Clay called a little while

ago.”

My heart slunk its way from where it

was lodged inside of my throat, and for a

moment, it felt like it dropped out of my

body completely.

Because the moment Mom had said my

attorney’s name—even before she started

saying things like
agency
and
appeals
process
and
new court date sometime

next year
—I knew that it was over.

Chapter Twenty

The first drink that I took that night

scorched the back of my throat, making me

choke, making my eyes water. I didn’t

know if the tears were from the pretty blue

bottle of SKYY vodka or the sobs I’d

been swallowing back ever since Miller

had picked me up and I told him my plans

had changed for the night—that I wanted

to go back to Jessica’s hotel room.

So since I couldn’t figure it out, I took

another shot and then one more, just to be

sure.

Jessica lay beside me, her blue eyes

glazed as she stared up at the recessed

lighting above our faces, which cast a

reddish glow. “You sure you don’t want

it?” she whispered, gesturing her hand out

to the nightstand, to where the other half of

the blue pill she’d downed an hour ago

sat.

Of course I wanted it, but I shook my

head. My phone vibrated in my back

pocket—probably Cooper again. I ignored

it.

She traced her tongue over her lips

and sat up for a moment to look at the door

to her room. Miller was on the other side,

waiting for me as I’d asked. “We can still

get him to take us to that club,” she said,

dropping back down and giving me a little

smile. She scooted her hips across the

memory foam, closing the space between

us until our hips brushed. “It’ll be fun.”

“I’m fine here,” I argued. But I wasn’t

fine. My head was spinning and my

stomach pitched violently because I’d left

my dinner untouched and I felt myself

slowly slipping further under.

And yet, I caught myself sitting up,

swinging my legs over the side of the bed

to pour yet another shot.

Because I’d lost.

Because I wanted to escape.

Jessica murmured something inaudible

and I half-turned to see that she’d closed

her eyes. “My show isn’t going to work

out,” she said at last, referring to the pilot

she’d been shooting earlier in the summer.

I lost. I’m never going to see him

again. I
lost
.

I massaged my temples, trying to get

that thought out of my head. I’d think about

it tomorrow or the next day. I’d think

about it when it didn’t hurt so bad to think.

Instead, I’d focus on Jessica. “You don’t

know that,” I said and she opened her

eyes, turning her head to me to give me a

cold look.

“Let me Willow it down for you—I

got fired. I’m not going anywhere with it,”

she said, and my mouth pinched together. I

crossed my arms tightly over my chest,

turning my back to her once again, as she

continued, “You’re lucky.”

Sucking in a harsh, nauseating breath, I

clenched my hands into the fabric under

either side of my arms. “I’m not.”

She snorted, and then coughed, and I

saw her come up on her elbows again in

my peripheral vision. She gave me the

most incredulous look she could manage.

“Of course you are. You’ve got a good

role and—” Then she paused, laughter

taking over her body as she rolled over

onto her stomach. Placing her cheek on the

smooth comforter, she reached out and

hooked her fingertip in one of my belt

loops. “You’ve got a boy with more

daddy issues than you’ve got.”

I flinched the moment she mentioned

Cooper, snapping my gaze around

completely to meet her eyes full on.

“Don’t talk about him like that, Jess.” She

could say whatever she wanted about me

but I didn’t want his name mentioned

tonight. Not when I was doing this.

Jessica wouldn’t drop it. “Oh come

on, I’m sure Sunday dinner has been a

fucking disaster at his place when you add

you and James Dickson to the equation.”

She resumed her glaring match with the

ceiling and the lighting, waiting for me to

say something.

“What are you talking about?”

She made a hysterical sound that was

part laugh, part sob, before demanding,

“Don’t you see it?”

She was talking in circles and the

vodka was making its way to my head, to

the rest of my body. The only thing I saw

were the spots that would eventually

become the darkness I wanted so badly.

When I didn’t answer her she rolled

her eyes. “James Dickson’s his dad.”

I rolled off the bed, stumbling a little

on one of the shoes she’d left at the foot of

it. My breathing was harsh and labored

when I steadied myself, gripping one of

the wooden posters for support. “Don’t be

an idiot, Jess. You’ve never even met the

guy.” And she never would as long as I

had anything to do with it.

She sat upright in the middle of the

bed and hugged her knees. She raked her

hand through her strawberry blonde hair,

making each movement seem like it was

an effort. “There was a picture of them

together on
Leah Dishes
.” When I slid my teeth together, giving her a hard look, she

added, “But let me guess, you’ve been too

caught up in Willow problems to even

notice the resemblance.”

I turned my back to her. “I’ve got to

pee.”

The moment I slammed the bathroom

door behind me, I pulled my phone out,

exiting out of the missed text messages

from Cooper and my mother. I stood in the

center of the enormous bathroom, fumbling

through pages of a shitty gossip site I

never visited, but once I found what I was

looking for, I sank down on the side of the

oversized bathtub staring down at it.

The photo had been taken at the meet

and greet we’d done the evening after I

found out who Cooper’s mother was.

Cooper and Dickson were side by side,

smiling, and the caption under the picture

read:
Tidal
Producer (James Dickson)

Greets the Man Behind the Surfer

(Cooper Taylor)
.

I would have shrugged Jessica’s

comment off and immediately turned off

my phone if I hadn’t stared closer—if I

hadn’t realized just how tense their body

language was.

And the dimple in Dickson’s left

cheek.

I slid my cell phone away from me, to

the far corner of the porcelain tub, so I

wouldn’t hurl it against the wall. Cooper

had lied to me. He had fucking lied and—

And then I remembered the scar on his

back. The long, jagged scar that he’d told

me his father had given him when he was

a kid.

My hands trembled as I grabbed my

phone and sent him a message.
I’m

coming over. Are you home?

He responded quickly.

11:23 p.m.:
I’m here. Are you okay?

I didn’t answer, shoving the phone

inside the back pocket of my tight jeans.

Taking a deep breath to clear my head, I

walked out into the bedroom to face

Jessica, who now lay back on a mound of

pillows with her legs crossed, eating from

a plate of fries that had gone cold hours

before.

“I’ve got to go home,” I said.

The corners of her lips quirked up but

she never moved, never even turned her

gaze on me. “I won’t see you after this,

will I?”

I reached the door. And I didn’t stop

to look back at her when I said, “No, you

won’t.”

***

Cooper’s front door, his gaze never

meeting mine. He’d been quiet as he drove

me from Jessica’s hotel, opening his

mouth and then slamming it closed every

couple minutes, and I knew he was

disappointed in me. Hell, I was

disappointed in me. And I was furious.

Furious at Cooper and at Dickson and

at myself.

Eric answered the door in his boxers,

holding a remote control and scratching

his beard. He propped one arm up against

the wood frame to support his tall, lanky

frame. He started to make one of his usual

remarks but Miller shook his head. Then

Eric leaned forward a little and inhaled.

His easygoing expression slipped

from his face, giving way to the worry I’d

seen hundreds of times, and Eric dropped

his gaze to the foyer floor. He moved

aside so that I could step inside.

“Cooper’s upstairs showering.”

I turned to Miller, holding my

stomach. “Wait for me in the car.” The

order sounded harsh when it came out so

shaky and unsure but he lifted his chin.

Before Eric could say another word, I

stalked past him, stumbling up the stairs

and into Cooper’s bedroom which was

steamed up from his shower. He was

coming out the bathroom with a towel

wrapped around him when I lunged at him,

shoving him square in the chest with the

palms of my hand. He barely budged, and

when I went at him again, he grabbed my

wrists in his hands, not seeming to care

that the towel fell to the floor.

“Goddamn it, Wills, calm down. Calm

down and”—his body froze and he

dragged me closer to him, despite my

struggling. “You’re drunk. Holy fuck,

you’re drunk.”

I didn’t deny it. “You lied to me.”

He released me, scooping up his

towel. Turning his back to me, he leaned

up against the dresser sliding his hand

back and forth over his forehead. “You’re

drunk and you’re accusing me of lying?”

I backed up against the wall next to the

dresser, sliding down it until I crumbled

on the floor. “Is James Dickson your

dad?” I demanded. When Cooper’s eyes

went hard and the muscles in his neck

tightened, I balled my hands into my

flannel shirt. “So he beat the shit out of

you and you decide to work for him? You

let me go on believing he’s this good guy

after he did that to you?”

Letting out a frustrated moan, he

pushed away from the cherry wood. He

kneeled in front of me a second later, to

touch my face, and I flinched. “He’s not

the one who hit me, Wills.” Then, raking

his fingers through his wet blonde hair, he

took a deep breath. “My mother was

married to Colin Taylor when she got

pregnant with me, Wills, and James

Dickson . . . he’s had the same wife

forever.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, but said

nothing, compelling him with my eyes to

continue.

“Mum passed me off as Colin’s for

years but he always knew. He knew the

whole damn time and tortured me for it.”

My lungs constricted, making it hard

for me to catch my breath. “Did Dickson

know?” I asked in a hoarse voice. When

he didn’t immediately answer, I spoke

louder, more desperately. “Did he?”

Cooper shook his head and sat down

beside me. “Not until after the shit with

the fishing pole and even after that I didn’t

meet Dickson until I was seventeen, at

Mum’s funeral.” Cooper raised one of his

knees as he stared at the wall across from

us. “I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kill

him that day.”

I gave him a pained look. “Cooper—”

“She loved him. And all she ever got

from him were a million excuses.”

And suddenly, what he’d said to me

days, weeks, ago about his mother loving

him and everything he’d represented to her

made sense.

“I’m so sorry,” I stuttered.

Cooper held up his hand, shaking his

head. “Don’t be. Dickson and I’ve been

trying this father-son bullshit for years. It

probably won’t ever work but I’ll keep

trying because despite what a selfish ass

he’s been, Mum genuinely loved him.”

Then he reached out, cupping my face

with his damp palm. Our eyes touched,

and I suddenly felt like the room was

closing in on us. “Wills, why are you

drinking?” When I started to climb to my

feet, he locked his fingertips gently around

my wrist. “You wanted me to spill my shit

so I did. There’s no way in hell I’m letting

you leave this room tonight without you

coming out with yours.”

And though I wanted to fight him,

though I just wanted to escape, I eased

back down on my bottom, feeling every

inch of my body numb as I said in a

monotone voice, “I lost my baby.”

He dropped wide blue eyes to my

stomach. “What?”

“Tyler and me. We had a baby and I

lost him.”

He was quiet for a long moment, a

muscle twitching in his jaw. “So he got

you pregnant and you had a miscarriage?”