Текст книги "Out Of The Blue"
Автор книги: Carina Adams
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“Wow.” Yeah, wow. I’d just taken a sip of my Coke when she asked her next question. “So the fact that you were in love with Lia never mattered to her? Julie married you even though you were obviously in love with someone else?”
I coughed, choking on my soda, making it dribble out of my nose. Fuck that stung. “What?”
“Don’t act so surprised. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
I could have lied. I could have denied it. If it hadn’t been just Mols and me, maybe I would have. But I couldn’t bring myself to do either. “I didn’t realize my feelings were common knowledge.”
“Please.” Molly snorted. “A giant billboard would be less obvious.”
Fuck. “It’s not what you think.”
“It never is,” she agreed. “So tell me.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
There hadn’t been much traffic and we were making good time, yet a glance at the TomTom showed me that we still had almost six hours left together before we got to Keene. I felt like I could tell her anything, even the truths I tried to hide from myself, and Molly wouldn’t judge. So I started at the beginning, back when Lee and I were just babies.
Molly listened as I talked, laughing at the funny parts, trying to hide the tears in her eyes at the depressing parts, and at some point, she reached over and took my hand. I didn’t pull away, but instead, laced my fingers with hers and settled our joined hands on the center console, comforted by the simple gesture.
Chapter Nine
~ Molly ~
I’d known Mike for years, and there were many descriptive words I could use to describe him. Bossy. Tall. Muscular. Handsome. Bossy. Cocky. Confident. Proud. Bossy. Brooding. Impatient. Nice. Bossy. Loyal. Trustworthy. Safe. Bossy.
Talkative, adorable, and sexy as hell were never things that entered my mind where he was concerned. Until recently. Staring at him now, watching him talk as the sun rose, listening to stories from his childhood and then more about his son, I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.
It’s funny how you can know someone and not really know a thing about them. We all have a list of people we call friends, yet they’re really just acquaintances. How much do we really know about those people? How much do we let them know about us?
If you counted friends by the number of people who knew me, really knew me, I only had one. Nate. He knew every piece of my history, not because he was there to experience it with me, but because he dragged it out of me. In return, he told me his, and a bond between two broken souls had been formed.
Mike was different, though. He wasn’t sharing his past so that I would share mine. He told me these things because I asked. When I avoided his questions, he didn’t get pissy and stay quiet himself, and didn’t hold my silence against me. He just kept talking, as if trying to distract me. That told me all I needed to know about the kind of person he was; when I was comfortable enough to share with him, he’d be right there waiting.
I’d known that Nate and Lia had a past. Everyone who had heard Nate’s songs knew he was still in love with the girl that got away. Those of us who were closest to him had seen the picture he carried around—the one of the redheaded girl laughing at the camera. When we’d get drunk, he’d tell stories about her, and admit to how much he wished she was still part of his life. Never once was I jealous of that girl.
When Lia and Nate reconnected last May, I was cautious of her. Only because I knew she didn’t understand the power she held over my friend. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t want to like her. Yet I was not envious of her.
Until now. Listening to Mike talk about her, realizing that he’d loved her, really loved her, brought out feelings I hadn’t had in a long time. For the first time, I wanted to have something Lia had. I wanted his face to light up when he talked about me the way it did when he spoke of her. I wanted him to get that look in his eyes, one of true adoration, when he thought about me. When his eyes found mine, I realized that I wanted him to see more than just an acquaintance or a friend.
Sighing, I looked out the window, saddened by how different everything seemed.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked immediately, cutting himself off midsentence.
“Nothing.”
“Come on”—he squeezed my hand with his—“don’t be like that. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
I turned back to him, meeting eyes that were filled with concern. I couldn’t admit what I was feeling without sounding like a teenager who had a crush on her best friend’s boyfriend; you know they’re never going to be together forever, but it’s the ultimate betrayal to like him anyway. So I voiced the other thing that had been nagging me. “I haven’t been home in a long time.”
“How long is long?”
I didn’t have to think about it to know. I could give him an exact number, broken down into years, weeks, and days. Hell, I could probably do hours and minutes, too. But I couldn’t admit that out loud. “Eleven years.”
Mike let out a low whistle. “That’s a long ass time, kid.”
I nodded, not offering any more information. It was stupid. We’d be there in a half hour, so I should just tell him. Yet the words didn’t come.
Mike broke the silence a few minutes later. “Mols, this may sound like a dumb question, but I’ve been driving a long time and need a bed. Plus, I haven’t showered in a few days”—he shot me a wink—“but if you haven’t been there in over a decade, is there even running water and electricity hooked up?”
“Oh, my gosh! Yes!” I hadn’t thought about how it might sound. “Sorry. I haven’t been there in a long time, but it is lived in.”
Mike grinned at me in relief. “Thank Christ. I wouldn’t mind helping you open up a camp or summer home or whatever, but I’m not going to be much use when we get there. I was going to suggest crashing at a hotel for a few hours if we had to do that.” He let go of my hand long enough to grab his coffee. “Does the caretaker know we’re coming?”
“It’s my mom.” I shook my head. I hadn’t called or sent her a text last night because I knew she’d be asleep. Today was Sunday. She would have been up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready for church. And I didn’t want to give anyone that big of a heads up. “A few years ago, my mom put the farm I grew up in on the market. I bought it and hired her to stay there and take care of it for me.”
“And you haven’t been back since? Not for Christmas or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Must have changed a lot over the years, huh?”
I gave him a small smile, thankful he hadn’t asked why I hadn’t gone home in so long, or pointed out how weird it was. “You have no idea.”
A few minutes later, when I had him turn down a little dirt road in the middle of a forest, he gave me a weird look, but followed my directions. When the road became narrow and led to an old wooden one-lane bridge, he stopped the SUV and turned to me. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been home and you’re wicked tired. Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
“Yes. Keep driving, you geek.” I smiled, knowing what was coming. On the other side of the brook, the road opened up into a meadow. Green fields spread in front of us, meeting the mountains. A quarter of a mile more and you’d see the roof of the farmhouse where I grew up, the building slowly coming into view as you got closer to it.
“Wow,” was all my companion muttered as we made our way up the drive and I pointed out the little things that I’d forgotten I missed.
“That’s the pond where I learned to swim.” I pointed to the swimming hole down on the right. The dock where I’d spent hours lying in the sun was still there, but the float that had always been in the middle was now lying on the shore. To the left was the enormous three-story barn where my best friends—a beautiful Quarter horse named Strawberry and a mutt named Hobo—had lived. Both were buried here on the property, over the hill behind the barn, down by the falls. I needed to visit them while I was home, it had been too long.
I had Mike park in front of the barn. My mom’s car wasn’t here, but it could be in the garage. I took a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping out. A quick glance at the house told me that we were alone. No one pulled up this driveway without being noticed.
“What’s that noise?” Mike walked up behind me, looking all around. “It sounds like a fountain.”
I smiled. “Clifford Falls. They’re beautiful, and only a couple of minutes away on foot. I’ll take you there later.”
“Nice.” He leaned in, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting hug and moving his lips next to my ear. “Welcome home, Mols.”
He didn’t move back, and I didn’t pull away. Instead, I leaned against him, trying to gather all the strength I could and shove my nervousness aside. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down. I’d missed this place more than I wanted to admit. I was home.
But for every good memory this place held, there was an equally painful one.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Mike said, offering me a hand before pulling me toward the house. “How old?”
“My great-great grandparents built it in the early 1800’s. 1835. It’s been changed a lot since then, but the original structure is still strong.”
“Wow.” He sounded impressed as we moved up the steps and onto the wrap-around farmer’s porch. I hesitated, not sure if I was supposed to knock or go right in. The house may have belonged to me, but it never had been mine. After a second, I pushed open the door, relieved that my mom still refused to lock it. She’d always said that locks only kept the honest people out. Guess some things would never change.
“Hello? Mom?” I called out into the foyer, but I was met with silence. “She must still be gone.”
Mike arched a brow. “Did you tell her we were coming?”
“Nope. I was going for the element of surprise. I’ll call her in a bit. Let me show you around.”
So much of it was exactly the way I remembered. The smell of the laundry room, the way the light filtered into the living room through the wall of windows, and the way the tiny kitchen at the back of the house made you feel welcome and encouraged you to sit at the table with a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
Yet so much had changed it felt like I was seeing the house for the first time, too. It was quiet, too quiet. I was used to hearing laughter and movement, the radio blaring while my mom cooked dinner, and animals demanding attention. The lack of clutter surprised me as I moved throughout the house. Only two coats hung on the wall next to the back door, instead of twenty, all piled on top of the others. Below them, there were boots lined neatly on a matt. But my dad’s work boots were missing, as were my riding boots.
I moved slowly up the wide, wooden stairs, stopping to see each picture that lined the wall. My niece and nephews, kids I only knew from the pictures my mom sent, had replaced the ones of my sisters and me, but almost all the way at the top were some that I’d grown up staring at. Black and white shots of my grandparents, and one of my parents on their wedding day.
I showed him the bathroom on the second floor before pointing to a door. “My parents’ room.” I paused at the door across the hall, too afraid to open it, too scared not to. I didn’t know what I’d find in my old room, but when Mike reached around me and twisted the handle, I was shocked to see that it looked exactly like it had the day I threw some clothes in my backpack and ran. “Oh.”
“Whose room is this?”
I glanced around, taking in the twin-sized bed, matching white desk, and miniscule bureau where I used to keep my clothes, realizing we’d walked into a time capsule. The room was clean, the bed made, but other than that, it hadn’t been touched since 2004. “Mine.”
“Really?” Mike laughed, stepping into the room and looking around. He was a giant of a man anyway, but he looked even larger in the smallest bedroom in my house. “Who is Georgeanne?”
Shit! I glanced over the bed, realizing that the large white letters spelling out my birth name were still hanging over my bed where my mom had put them two decades ago. I cleared my throat. “Me.”
As his eyes moved around the rest of the room, mine followed, too. The dark blue walls and white trim looked more like a little boy’s room than a girl’s, but the band posters on the wall gave it away. “It just doesn’t look like you. It’s too boring.”
I smiled. “It was me when I was a teenager.” I ran my fingers over my bookshelf, surprised that even it seemed like it had remained untouched. “I thought my mom would have turned it into a guest room, or a sewing or craft room by now, but it looks just like it did.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. “Mols?”
I knew that he wanted an explanation. Pointing to the name above my bed, I explained. “Have you ever met a musician named Georgeanne?”
He smiled. “I’ve never met anyone named Georgeanne.” He pushed himself up, staring at me. “You just don’t look like a Georgeanne. Maybe you could have shortened it. Been George Ray, screwed with people’s minds. Georgia Ray is pretty catchy.”
I shook my head. “Georgeanne Sapphire Davis.”
He arched a single eyebrow before something beside me caught his eye and he moved to stare at the pictures that lined my wall. I was rooted to the spot, mind whirling as I tried to find a way to explain what he was going to see. Finally, he turned to me, looked around the room once more, and then smirked. “You’re fucking with me right now.”
“I wish to God I was.”
“I’ve been around a shit ton of women, lived with a few throughout my life, and there’s one thing I’ve learned. You love pictures. You aren’t gonna have this many on your wall without having some of yourself in them.”
“I’m in them.”
“Where?” he challenged.
I rounded the bed, walking straight to the photos. “Right there.” I pointed to an obese teen with dark hair and a gap-toothed smile.
He leaned in closer. “That’s not you.”
“It is. And so is that.” I moved my finger a few photos up, tapping on one of me riding Strawberry out in the field. “Look close.”
He narrowed his eyes, leaning even closer toward the frames. “Holy shit. You were so…”
“Fat,” I finished for him. “I know.”
“Young,” he snapped, glaring at me. “I was going to say young.”
“Sure you were. ‘Cause that’s the first thought that comes to mind when you see those pictures.”
He lifted his right eyebrow, crossed his arms, and stared down at me. “Actually, smart ass, the first thing I noticed was how different you looked without body art, holes in your face, and purple hair. Which, you did. It’s weird to see. You’re a fucking child in those pictures and it makes me feel old.”
I broke eye contact, looking back at the girl I used to be. He was right. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“I’m not going to tell you that I don’t think you were fat, ‘cause you’ll just think I’m being nice or argue with me, and I’m too fucking exhausted to fight with you right now. But we’ll talk about this later, brat.” His voice was low, threatening almost. He stepped closer, not touching me, but close enough so I could feel his body heat. “What happened to Georgeanne Davis, Mols? Where did she go?”
My breath caught. No one had ever asked me that before. Even the people who knew the girl I used to be. “I know it must seem weird for someone to change their name, but—”
It was his turn to cut me off. “It actually doesn’t. People do it all the time. Makes sense to me, especially if you want your private life to stay private. Hell, if it helps me keep you safe, I’m all for it.” He tugged at a piece of my hair. “That doesn’t tell me why Georgeanne ran away.”
I turned, facing him. For a minute we just started at each other, and I was so close to telling him. His eyes darted down to my lips, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might kiss me. The fact that I wanted him to surprised the hell out of me.
The sound of a car coming up the road, gravel crunching under its tires, broke the spell. I swallowed as I backed away. “My mom must be home.” I hurried out the door before he could stop me.
I was almost down the stairs when I heard the familiar voice call out a confused greeting. I pushed open the screen door and hurried onto the porch. “Hi, Momma.”
“Sunshine?” My mom stopped and stared as if she couldn’t believe it was really me. Recovering from her shock, she rushed up the steps and pulled me into her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have stayed home and waited for you.”
I wrapped my arms around the thinning woman. It had been a long time since I’d been held by her, and to be honest, there was a time when I wasn’t sure if I ever would again. Having her this close made tears burn my eyes.
“I didn’t want to bother you. We’re only here for a little while, but we’ve been driving all night, so—”
“We?” she asked, glancing behind me.
“My security guy and me.”
As if on cue, Mike pushed open the screened door. “Mrs. Davis.” He offered her a hand, which she snatched and shook vehemently, eyeing him. “I’m Mike.”
“You have anything to do with my daughter’s face looking like that?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t get in front of her in time.”
Mom scowled at him for a second and then nodded. “Where you two coming from?”
“Ohio. Drove straight through after Molly’s show last night,” Mike answered before I could.
“You must be exhausted. Why don’t you two go get some rest and we’ll catch up over dinner?” She smiled at me, reaching out and touching my cheek. “It’s great to have you home Sunny.”
Mike waited until we were upstairs before he asked, “Sunny?”
“My dad used to call me his little ray of sunshine, or Ray for short. Mom’s called me Sunny for years.”
He watched me closely. “You are quite the mystery, Miss Molly.”
I grinned. “Simple is boring.”
He glanced around the hall. “Where am I sleeping?”
I yanked open the door to the third floor, “My sisters’ room.” I took the small stairs two at a time. Mine hadn’t been touched in the time I’d been gone, but the room at the top of the stairs had been completely remodeled. I pointed to the beds. “Pick one.”
Mike collapsed on the one closest to him, kicking off his shoes. I headed to the other full-sized bed, dropping on it without removing my flip-flops. We’d both been awake for over twenty-four hours and the trip was finally catching up with me. I was asleep before I could cover up.
Chapter Ten
~ Mike ~
It took me a few seconds to remember where I was. Something woke me, but not in a startling way, and I blinked up at the ceiling a few times before it all sunk in. I was in New York with Mols. At the house she grew up in.
I pushed myself up, glancing at the bed across the room. She was still here, wheezing lightly every time she breathed. I patted my pockets, searching for my cell, but it wasn’t there. I must have left it in the car, along with everything else.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I needed to call Jake. And if that stench that kept drifting toward my nostrils was me, I needed to take a shower desperately. Easing myself off the bed, I glanced at the sleeping beauty, grabbing a blanket off a chair to cover her.
Fuck me, she was beautiful.
I’d never really had a specific type of woman I was attracted to. Not like my friends did. Noah liked dark-haired curvy girls, while Reb went for the tall, bottle blondes, and Nate had gone for anyone who wouldn’t remind him of Lee. Me? I didn’t discriminate. I liked them all.
There was a children’s book I read to Jake when he was little that had a line that was something like, “small ones, tall ones, round ones, thin ones.” I don’t remember much about the story, other than that, but I do recall laughing because it could have been written about me. I loved all women equally. Lee had made fun of me for years because of my manwhore status.
But the woman sleeping in front of me right now? I’d always thought she was pretty, with her large doe eyes, petite nose, and kissable lips. I’d just never realized how absolutely fucking perfect she was. How in the hell had I missed it?
Not wanting her to wake up and catch me staring at her, I quietly crept down the stairs, following my nose toward the delicious smells wafting out of the kitchen.
Finding Mrs. Davis standing at the stove, I smiled. “Something smells good.”
She glanced up, offering me a polite nod. “Meatloaf and red skinned mashed potatoes was always her favorite. I’m sure she’s used to eating much fancier meals nowadays, but she looks like she needs a simple home-cooked meal.”
“She’s pretty simple,” I offered, feeling like a moron as soon as the words were out of my mouth. It was not meant as an insult and I hoped that the older woman wouldn’t take it that way. “I mean, she’s pretty down to earth.”
Mrs. Davis turned back to the counter. I watched her profile, surprised by how much she looked like Molly. Or how much Molly looked like her. They were the same height with a similar build, but it was the eyes that gave it away. Molly had her mom’s eyes. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she asked, “Did you have a nice nap, Mike?”
I nodded. “I hate sleeping during the day, it throws me off.”
She smiled and offered me a cup of coffee, one I gladly accepted. “You the only one up?”
“Yeah, Molly’s, uh…” I hesitated, not sure what to call her. “She’s still sleeping.”
“The girl needs her rest. She looks worn out.”
I didn’t know her well enough to discuss her daughter, but it felt like she needed reassurance. “It’s been a long few weeks for her, but we’ve got a few days off and I’m hoping she’ll be able to relax here.”
The older woman pursed her lips. “That’s a good idea. She needs someone to take care of her.”
Ha. That was fucking laughable. Mols would never let anyone take care of her; she was too stubborn for that shit. “I’m going to grab a shower if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely! It’s the first door upstairs on the right.”
I excused myself, grabbing both Molly’s bag and mine, along with my cell, from the car and scrolled through my missed calls. I cursed under my breath when I realized Lee had blown up my phone over the last few hours. She was probably pissed as hell. But another name on the list caught my eye, causing me to swear again as I dropped the bags on the ground and called him back.
“Dad!” Jake exclaimed excitedly, picking up on the second ring.
“Hey, bud!” I smiled, not being able to hide how happy just hearing his voice made me. God, I fucking missed him. “How are you?”
“Good. Where are you?”
“New York.”
“Daaad,” he groaned, annoyance filling his voice. “What part of New York?”
“Upstate.” I chuckled, knowing he’d be annoyed with my smartassery.
“Dad.” He sounded so grown up. When had that happened? Wasn’t he six just five minutes ago?
“Are you doing the map again?” When he was a baby, I’d bought him a giant wall-sized map so he and Julie would always know where I was. He’d tracked the places I’d visited over the years, even when I was on tour with Nate.
“Yeah.”
I rolled my eyes at the amount of attitude that came through the phone.
“So, where are you?”
“Keene.”
“Keene, Keene, Keene,” he whispered, and I could see him, standing at the wall in his bedroom, searching the map. “A-ha! I found you.”
“What color are you using this time?” I asked with a smile. He used one specific tack color for each trip, making it easy to see where I’d been each time. The boy loved watching my progress around the globe. I knew one day our roles would be reversed and I would be the one recording his trips.
“Blue. For Molly’s hair. Wait, is it still blue or has she changed it?”
“It’s purple.”
“So cool. You’re seriously like the luckiest person in the world, Dad. Maybe she’ll help you loosen up a bit. Ya know, calm you down?”
“You mean turn me cool?”
He giggled. An all-encompassing, childish giggle, making me long for days gone by. “Not a chance.”
A smile split my face. This kid. This fucking kid. Shaking my head, I tried to change the topic. “What have you been up to?”
“Mom and Dr. Douche—”
“Jacob Nathaniel Carson!” I growled in warning. “Don’t.”
“Whatever.” More of the attitude that told me he was definitely my offspring. “Mom and Lewis went away for the weekend, so Janet and I are with Great Grammy.”
Instantly, I became pissed off. My Grams never turned down the chance to spend time with Jake, and she’d never accepted the fact that Janet wasn’t my daughter, so she was more than willing to watch the kids whenever Jules asked her to. But the kids had been with my parents last weekend, and Julie’s mom the weekend before that. Would it fucking kill her to spend some time with her kids, especially since I couldn’t be there? Jesus.
Swallowing my irritation, I asked about Gram. I walked through the fields as I talked to him, listening to everything that had happened in his world in the past few days. It was all too soon when Jake told me he’d talk to me later. “I love ya, Dad,” he muttered as if it was an afterthought.
“I love you, too, bud.”
After we hung up, I stared out at the mountains, lost in thought. How many more times would I hear him say those words? God knows my dad and I never exchanged them. And Jake was getting to the age where all affection would be a big faux pas.
Maybe he’d never grow out of it. Maybe, just maybe, I’d done my job right and he would know it was important to tell the people you loved how you felt. When people say tomorrow is never promised, they’re usually talking about death. But I’d learned the hard way that death wasn’t the only thing that could take away someone you loved. Sometimes, it’s a fate much worse than death. Loving Lee had taught me that.
I had tried to set a good example, to show Jake that a dad could be tough and strong as well as loving and comforting. He’d had a kitchen set in our kitchen by the time he was two, because when I was home, Daddy cooked as much as, if not more than, Mommy. When Jules told me she was pregnant with Janet, I’d bought him a baby doll so he could pretend to be a daddy while watching me. We were baby wearing fools, he and I. I smiled at the memory.
My dad would make snide comments about how I was turning Jake gay, but fuck him. One day, my future daughter-, or son-in-law would appreciate the fact that I had taught him to be a good cook and a decent dad. As long as Jake loved the person he was with, and they loved him back, then nothing else mattered. If it was a man, I’d be the first person marching in the local Pride parade supporting my two sons. And I’d kick anyone’s ass, including my old man’s, if they had a problem with it.
I wanted my son to have it all—love, laughter, and happiness, and a family who would give him both. I’d explained how important family was, even the family that isn’t family by blood. I could only hope he’d have one as great as mine one day.
When my phone rang seconds later, I glanced down and didn’t want to answer it.
“Why in the hell haven’t you called?” Lee snapped. “Tell me you’re both okay.”
Guilt hit when I heard her frantic tone. “Sorry. Yeah, we’re fine.”
“Where are you?”
I almost told her exactly where we were. Then I hesitated. “We’re safe.”
“Good. Where?”
I shook my head at the clouds, as if she could see me. “Somewhere in the middle of nowhere where no one will find us. That’s all you need to know.”
Lee sighed. “Does this somewhere have internet?”
I turned back to the house. Did it? “I don’t know.”
“Keep her away from her phone and away from the celebrity news sites.”
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. “How bad is it?”
“I’m not her goddamned bodyguard,” Lee snapped, “but I’d say if we’re hiding our girl out in the middle of nowhere to avoid the bastards, then it’s pretty fucking bad. Wouldn’t you?”
And, there was my Lee. I fought a smile as she said my words back to me. I couldn’t remember the entire conversation from last night, but I’d say they were almost verbatim. Fuck. Had that really only been last night? I was too old for this shit.
“Mikey?”
“I’m here.” I cleared my throat. “Are they crucifying her?”
“It isn’t pretty, but I’m spinning it as fast as I can. I need her out of the public eye until she steps on that stage Tuesday night.”
I could make that happen. “I’ll have her there Tuesday afternoon. Late afternoon.”
“For the love of all that’s holy, can you please keep her away from all media? It’ll destroy her.”
“She’s not getting near anything that’ll hurt her. Not fucking happening. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will.” She paused, as if thinking. “Thank you for taking care of my Molly, Mikey.”
“She’s my Molly, too, Lee. We’ll see you Tuesday.” I hung up and turned quickly, feeling something behind me. Mrs. Davis held out my coffee.
“I saw you pacing out here and figured you could use some caffeine. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“Thank you. I had to make a couple of calls.” I glanced at the third-floor windows, wondering if she was up yet.
“She’s out cold,” her mom answered my thoughts, wiping her hands on her thighs. “What happened to her face?”
I swallowed. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” She nodded absentmindedly. “My friend and I carpooled together last week. She thought I was meeting her at the store across from our church. I thought I was meeting her at the church across from her store. That was a misunderstanding.” She turned her blue eyes on me. “All I want to know is who beat on my daughter and how much you hurt him.”
“Her,” I clarified. “It was a woman.”
“A woman?” She shook her head, sighing angrily. “Over a man?”
It was my turn to shake my head. “Not at all what it sounds like.”
“It never is. Especially where she’s concerned.”
I fought my urge to glare at the woman in front of me. “Do you have internet access?”
“I’m out in the middle of nowhere, but I do have modern comforts. I don’t read about her anymore, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Your friends don’t tell you what they’ve heard?”
“My friends don’t recognize her. The Georgeanne they knew ran away years ago and never came home. Molly Ray is just some singer some of them might listen to.”
This was a mom worried about her child. I understood completely. “There was a problem at the after party last night. A woman attacked Nate. Molly got in the way before I could stop her. It was a mistake that won’t happen again.”
