After vomiting a small mouthful of bitter bile in the upstairs toilet, I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I cried as I wielded my toothbrush and awkwardly attempted to brush my teeth without further activating my gag reflex. Then, I reached into the back pocket of my skinny jeans and sighed with relief as I found my phone.
Collapsing onto the bed in my mom’s old bedroom, I hugged her pillow against my chest as I curled up into a ball and dialed Jack’s number. It rang four times before the voicemail came on and my heart sank at the sound of a young woman’s voice.
* * *
Thank you for calling Halo. You’ve reached the desk of Jade Insley, executive assistant to Jack Stratton. You’ve reached this number after hours. Please leave a detailed message or call back between the hours of nine a.m. and six p.m. If you’re attempting to reach Mr. Stratton, please be aware that he is out of town and is currently unreachable. Please leave a message and it will be relayed as soon as possible. Thank you!
* * *
“Jack? I… I’m so alone. I lie here every night, hugging my pillow. Oh, God. I’m so drunk. I… I hug my pillow and stare at our wedding photos and wish I had done everything differently. I know I hurt you, but…”
I pulled the phone away from my mouth before I confessed every depressing thought in my head to Jack’s assistant. In fact, I had to delete this message.
I pressed the pound sign to call up the menu where I could append the message or erase it. But as soon as I tapped it, I heard a beep followed by a horrifying automated voice.
* * *
Thank you for your message. Goodbye.
Chapter 7
Jack
Jade sounded tired. In the four years I’d worked with her, Jade had never sounded tired.
I didn’t get personal with my coworkers. It was a rule I had. Personal relationships at work only muddied the waters when someone needed to be reprimanded or promoted. Which was why I often turned down invitations to go golfing and drinking with Kent and the other partners.
All I knew about my lavender-haired assistant was she had a boyfriend with more artificial than natural holes in his head. I didn’t question Jade’s attraction to facial piercings. Her personal life was none of my business. But that didn’t mean I could ignore when something was different about her.
People don’t usually change who they are overnight. When that happens, it’s usually a change that was forced upon them. Like how Laurel and I changed after our son was killed. As much as I wanted to keep my relationship with Jade strictly professional, I couldn’t help but worry that someone or something may have forced this change in her.
“Jade, are you all right? You sound a bit tired,” I said as I took a seat in the aqua-green velour armchair in my hotel room in Boise.
She was silent for a moment, probably taken aback by this question. “Um… yeah. I didn’t get much sleep. I’ll grab a cup of coffee in the café and I’ll be fine.”
I contemplated letting this line of questioning go, but something had shifted inside me. I no longer felt like the man who cared about nothing but revenge. I felt like a single point of connection in a web of existence, inexorably linked to everyone and everything I’d tried to push away. The people in my life no longer felt like distant shadows existing in the periphery.
“Jade, you know more about me than anyone else in that office. If there’s something wrong with you, you know I can handle the news.”
She sniffed. “My grandma died last night,” she replied in a small voice, very different from the confident, assertive Jade I was accustomed to. “She raised me.”
“Jade, take some time off. As long as you need. I’ll make sure HR knows it’s paid leave.”
“But your messages. I haven’t given you—”
“Don’t worry about that. Just gather your things and go be with your family. I’ll have someone else handle the messages,” I insisted, though inside I worried that there was no one else in the office I trusted to forward my voicemails. With the exception of Jade, my thirst for revenge these past two years had alienated me from almost everyone in the office.
The Local was a tapas bar in downtown Boise with a fairly quiet ambiance. According to Sean, we were here for the killer tacos and the privacy provided by a mostly empty dining patio on a Thursday evening. The patio was surrounded by a waist-high wooden fence, which was topped with chest-high planter boxes overflowing with lush pink and white flowers. Laurel would know what kind of flowers they were.
As the waitress brought out our first round of beers, my burner phone vibrated in the breast pocket of my sport coat. Sliding it out, I saw a text message from an unknown number. But as soon as I read the words, I knew the identity of the sender.
* * *
Unknown:
Laurel’s not doing well. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Have you considered you might actually be pushing her right into his orbit again.
* * *
I stared at the words on the screen for a moment, taking them into consideration before I shot back a hasty reply.
* * *
Me:
The last time Laurel and I separated, I didn’t use my time wisely. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.
* * *
I was about to slide the phone back into my pocket when I decided to shoot off one more text.
* * *
Me:
But thanks for your concern. I appreciate your help and your advice.
* * *
I turned the phone off before I slid it into the inner pocket of my coat.
Sean cocked one of his thick silver eyebrows. “Is that your spy?”
I shook my head. “Not a spy. Just someone who cares about Laurel and wants the best for her.”
He nodded as he brought the pint of beer to his lips and took a sip, then smacked his lips. “Just be careful you don’t fall into the habit of thinking you need to watch over your wife like she’s a piece of property. You can’t put alarm systems on people, my friend.”
I took a sip of my lager as I allowed Sean’s words to seep into my consciousness. It was hard to distinguish between knowing I owned Laurel’s heart and feeling as if I owned her body. When I was inside her, when she was begging me to make her come, it was easy to feel ownership. But maybe it wasn’t Laurel’s heart and body I owned. What if it was only the moment I possessed?
This meant my work would never be done. Every day of the rest of our lives, I would have to earn each moment with Laurel, as she would have to earn each moment with me.
“Don’t end up like me,” Sean continued. “So I had a sit-down with Ava Robinson, and—”
“How?”
He smiled at my interruption. “How what?”
“How the fuck do I not end up like you?”
He chuckled at my blunt delivery. “Simple,” he replied, looking me straight in the eye. “Never let her forget that you’re better together.”
My meeting with Sean proved productive. Every meeting I had with him got me one step closer to finding the bastard who took my son from me. But there was one thing Sean couldn’t do without me. One thing I didn’t know I needed to do until now.
I slid a manila envelope across the table and Sean eyed it warily. “Forget your meeting with Robinson. That’s what you’re looking for.”
He glared at me. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s the adoption decree, but don’t ask me how I got it,” I said, remembering how I’d hacked into the Multnomah County adoption records database last night. I was in and out of their system in less than an hour, and I was one hundred percent certain no one would ever know I was there, but I couldn’t tell him that without incriminating him.
Sean shook his head as he folded the envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of his coat. “You better know what the hell you’re doing, kid, because if this thing goes sour, I’m looking out for myself. I may be an ex-cop, but I still play by the same rules
.”
I took a sip of beer and looked him in the eye. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Chapter 8
Isaac
Eight days and seven nights in a hospital was enough to make going home to find my ex-fiancée in my living room feel like I’d won the lottery. I was so damn sick of getting permission to get out of bed and take a piss. And I was thrilled to no longer have to choose between a wheelchair or a walker, so I wouldn’t bust open any of the forty-two stitches in my right thigh.
I had a million reasons to be pissed at Laurel’s husband and her bodyguard. But I’d spent enough time holding grudges to know I was ready to let it all fucking go. I just wanted to feel normal again, if that was even possible.
I laid my single crutch against the arm of the sofa and sat down gingerly. “Thanks for picking me up,” I said as my dad closed the front door behind me.
My mom didn’t hesitate to take a seat next to me, forcing Boomer to lie down at my feet. “Are you sure you should be sitting down?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be lying down with your leg elevated?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Mom, I’ve been lying down for a week. Besides, I didn’t break any bones. I have a tissue wound. I won’t even need to use this crutch much longer.”
My mom turned to my dad for support. “Bill?”
My dad laughed as he took a seat on the other arm of the sofa. “Give him a break, honey. If he feels like he needs to lie down, I’m sure he’ll lie down.”
My mom scowled at me. “You had to have part of your vein grafted onto your femoral artery. That is a very serious procedure. You need to rest.”
“I’m going to go wake up Ethan,” Nicole said, disappearing into the downstairs hallway, clearly trying to escape the oncoming argument.
I sighed as I turned to face my mother. “Look, Mom. I’m really grateful you all flew out here to help me when I needed you.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “But?”
I chuckled. “But, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself from here. You remember I was shot in the shoulder in Afghanistan. This is no different. I’ll be up and doing everything I was doing before in less than a week.”
She shook her head in dismay. “You are just as stubborn as ever.”
I shrugged. “I learned from the best.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Well, our flight leaves in about five hours, so I still have time to make you something to eat before we leave.”
“Mom, I can feed myself. In fact,” I said, grabbing my crutch and using it to help myself up from the sofa, “I have to go next door and thank Dylan and Laurel for taking care of Boomer before you all got here. I’ll be right back.”
Dylan had called me in the hospital a few days ago to check on me. He also wanted to let me know Laurel had moved back in next door. It seemed the words I’d said to her in the ambulance had widened the fracture in her marriage. I had to apologize to her.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” my mom called after me as she raced to the front door to open it. But as she stepped between the door and me, she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Your dad saw her falling down drunk outside her house last night. That’s not the kind of people you should be spending time with right now, sweetheart.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from saying something I’d regret. “Laurel has been through more than you and I put together. You have no right to judge her.”
She swallowed hard and nodded as she scooted out of my way.
As I hobbled down the front steps, I had to keep myself from throwing my crutch through the window of my parents’ rental car. There was nothing that annoyed me more than judgmental people. But my annoyance turned to rage when that judgment was directed at someone I cared about.
I knew my mother was just trying to keep me from getting in over my head. I doubted she knew the gritty details of Laurel’s past or her broken marriage. And she definitely didn’t know I was the latest cause of turmoil in Laurel’s life. If Laurel was falling down drunk in public, I couldn’t deny that I was partly to blame.
I glanced across the street at Edna’s house with the gray siding and wondered if she’d had a chance to meet my parents. I’d have to pay her a visit soon to let her know I was all right. As soon as my leg was up to it, I’d also have to take my power washer over there and hose down the siding for her.
Approaching Laurel’s house, I didn’t see her SUV in the driveway. Maybe she’d finally cleared out enough space in the garage to fit her car in there. In fact, the house looked pretty quiet and empty from the outside. I wondered if she was even home. Maybe she’d already reconciled with her husband.
I knocked on the door and was not surprised when no one came to the door. I turned around to leave, when I thought I heard a moan. Holding my ear closer to the door, I listened for about thirty seconds before I heard it again.
“Laurel? Is that you?” I shouted at the door seam.
Another moan prompted me to try the door handle and I was pleased to find it unlocked. However, I was not at all pleased when I pushed the door open and found Laurel lying on her stomach on the sofa. Her head barely lifted as she watched me through bloodshot eyes. On the coffee table beside her lay an empty wine bottle and an overturned bottle of prescription pills.
“Oh, fuck. Laurel, what the fuck did you do?”
Dropping my crutch, I felt nothing in my leg as I crossed the living room and slid my arm underneath her torso to hoist her up into a sitting position. I took a seat next to her and stuck my fingers into her mouth to see if there were any pills in there.
She pushed my hand away. “Stop.”
“Did you take those pills?”
She shook her head as she made a clumsy, half-hearted attempt to push me away. “The pills are there because I didn’t take them.”
“You didn’t take any of them?” I asked reaching for the bottle to get a look at the label. “This is Xanax, Laurel. Did you take these with alcohol?”
“I said no.” She pushed me off again, hard enough this time to cause her to fall in the other direction. “I drank some wine. I’m fine. Go home, Isaac.”
My mother’s words echoed in my mind. Then, I realized this was just a knee-jerk reaction to Laurel telling me to leave. I knew from experience that when someone adamantly insists on being alone, that’s usually when they need someone to stay. Laurel was alone before I got here, and that obviously was not working out well for her.
The burning pain in my right thigh kicked up as I rose from the sofa and began looking around for a wooden chest or closet where Laurel might have a blanket. I opted instead to go upstairs and grab a pillow and knit blanket from the first bedroom I encountered.
The stitches in my thigh screamed as I descended the stairs back to the living room. Laurel’s eyes were closed as she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her cheek smashed against the gray velour fabric. As I approached, she opened her eyes and smiled, as if it was the first time she was seeing me today.
“You’re awake?” she said, and I tried not to laugh.
“Yeah, just woke up,” I replied, setting the pillow down against the opposite arm of the sofa. “I brought you a blanket.”
She grinned as she reached for my T-shirt and pulled me down onto the sofa. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
Before I could protest, she pushed me against the pillow and laid her head on my chest.
“Goodnight,” she murmured.
“Laurel?”
“Mmm?”
I wanted to tell her that I needed to get back home before my parents started to worry. Or ask her if she knew who I was. Her comment about me waking up made me wonder if maybe she was talking in her sleep. But she had said my name earlier…when she was telling me to leave.
I sighed as I ran my hand over my face. Just then, she wrapped her skinny arm around my waist and snuggled up closer to me, slipping her head into the crook of my neck. I caught a whiff of her hair: strawberries and vanilla.
&
nbsp; Fuck.
Shaking my head, I slid my cell phone out of my jeans pocket and dialed Dylan’s number.
“Isaac? Are you out of the hospital?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah. Actually, I just came over to check on Laurel and she’s not doing well. She’s really drunk and there are a bunch of Xanax spilled over the coffee table. She says she didn’t take any, but I’m going to stay here with her until you get home to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing. When are you coming back?”
Dylan let out an audible sigh. “Poor thing. I’ll be home about 5:15. Thank you for staying with her, but are you sure you’re okay to do that?”
I laughed. “I don’t really have a choice. She… kind of fell asleep on top of me. I’m fine. See you when you get here.”
I made one more phone call to my mom’s cell, letting her know I wouldn’t be back for another few hours, but I would be back in time to see them off before they left for the airport. My mother and father were not at all pleased, but there wasn’t much they could do. As I slid the phone into my pocket, I smiled at the way Laurel’s fist was curled around my T-shirt. I hoped to God she wasn’t mistaking me for her husband. I wanted this moment to be mine.
But my mother’s voice continued to seep through the cracks in my confidence. This was a bad idea staying here, letting myself enjoy this moment rather than running from it.
Maybe I was being reckless. Maybe I was going to end up with a broken heart, or worse. But I couldn’t ignore the voice telling me that getting my heart broken by Laurel would be a privilege.