Текст книги "Perfect Kind Of Trouble"

Автор книги: Chelsea Fine

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

32 Daren

I listen to Kayla cry softly into her pillow, and my throat begins to tighten. Every fiber of my being wants to roll over and pull her into my arms, begging her to forgive me. I want to take her face in my hands and kiss away her tears. I want to undo all the damage I’ve caused.

I can’t stand this—not having her smiling eyes on mine, not having her wrist banging into mine every few minutes. It’s like I’ve lost a piece of myself.

And it hurts. God, it hurts.

I fucked up so bad.

I stare at the ceiling and clutch at my aching chest as I listen to Kayla sniffle. I broke her. I broke Turner’s daughter.

Just like his priceless pocket watch, Turner entrusted me with Kayla and I damaged her. Crushed her to pieces.

Sleep won’t come for me. But I don’t deserve it anyway.

* * *

The next morning, I wait until Kayla has already left the room before padding into the bathroom and washing my face. Even though I work here, I’ve never been in this room before. Generally, when I stock the supplies I don’t go into the guest rooms.

I finish washing my face and dry it with a towel then look in the mirror. I have two days of scruff that looks very out of place on my usually clean-shaven face. There are dark circles under my eyes and a faint bruise on my left wrist and my hair is a matted mess. And even though I smell clean from my shower last night, I feel rotten.

Mostly because of the Kayla thing, and partly because I have no plan. I know I’m getting to a point where I’m just going to run out of money. My jobs aren’t enough to continue paying Connor’s medical bills, and now that Kayla and I have decided to forfeit the inheritance, I don’t even have a backup plan.

A knock sounds on my door. I open it to see Ellen waiting in the hallway.

She smiles. “Breakfast is ready.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Breakfast is included with every night’s stay,” she says. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I’m not a guest. I’m a freeloader who crashed your inn and stayed in one of your rooms last night.”

“No,” she says, drawing out the word, “you’re an employee of Willow Inn. And all employees get five guest nights for free each year.” She grins. “I’m glad to see you’re taking advantage of your employee benefits. Now hurry and come downstairs before Mable throws away your hot food and complains about it all day.”

“But I—”

“Do not make me tell Mable you don’t want her breakfast, you hear me?” She sharpens her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

Her smile is back. “Good. See you in ten.” Then she disappears from my doorway.

Shaking my head, I finish getting dressed before making my way downstairs. In the dining room, all the tables are set for breakfast and most of them are full.

“Morning, Daren,” says Earl Whethers, one of the inn’s regulars, seated at the nearest table.

“Morning, Earl,” I say. “Where’s Vivian?”

He chuckles. “At the bar.” He points to where his wife is seated at the bar top, trying to sweet-talk a shot of whiskey out of Angelo.

“Vivian, like I said yesterday and the day before,” Angelo says. “The only drinks we serve at breakfast are mimosas.”

She curls up her lip. “You’re no fun, Angelo.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Earl says to me, and pulls out a nearby chair. “Ellen says you’re off today, so I’ve decided you should join me for breakfast.” I take a seat. “So what brings you to town?” Earl says with a wink.

“The car I was riding in broke down nearby, actually,” I say. “So I stayed the night.”

“With…?”

I lift a brow.

Earl says, “Oh come on, now. Everyone is talking about how you came to the inn with a young lady. Who is she?”

“Oh, Kayla? She’s…” I blink. Who is she? “She’s my friend,” I say. “Kinda.”

He laughs. “Sure she is.” Then his whole face changes and goes pale. For a moment, I think he’s having a heart attack because his eyes bulge and his limbs go rigid. But then he whispers, “Well, I’ll be…”

I follow his gaze and relax a tinge when I realize why his mouth is hanging open the way it is. Kayla has just entered the dining room. And now that she’s all cleaned up, she’s stunning.

She always looks incredible, but in the morning light coming through the dining room from the dramatic floor-to-ceiling windows she is completely breathtaking. Her hair is tied back in a mess, she’s not wearing makeup, and she’s dressed in a ratty tank top, torn up jeans, and dirty sneakers. But she’s absolutely beautiful.

Which just reminds me of what an asshole I am.

Earl clucks his tongue. “That might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

I pull my eyes away from her. “Tell me about it.”

“Is that your lady?” he asks with a dirty wink.

I smile tightly. “I wish.”

“What happened? Did you screw it up?”

“Yep.” I nod. “I sure did.”

He sighs. “Stupid boy. I tell ya. Youth is wasted on the young. If I were your age, I’d find a way to keep that girl happy and by my side forever.”

“Why?” I say defensively. “Because she’s pretty? Because she’s more than just her good looks, you know.”

“Well, sure—”

“She’s smart. And she sews. And she wants to be a nurse. And even though life has been shitty to her she has a kind spirit. And she cares about people even when they don’t deserve it—”

I stop talking because now Earl’s staring at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am. In fact, I know I am.

I’m crazy for thinking I was ever good enough to touch or kiss Kayla. And I’m crazy for saying mean things to her and making her cry. And most of all, I’m crazy because I just now realized that I love Kayla Turner.

It just hit me. A lightning bolt in the middle of this dining room. A warm sensation rolls over me, overwhelming me with deep affection as I stare at Kayla across the room. Oh my God. I actually love Kayla. I love who she is and what she wants and how she feels.

And it scares the shit out of me.

Guys like me don’t get to have girls like Kayla Turner. Guys like me end up as alcoholics in jail. Guys like me can only dream of girls like Kayla Turner.

So go ahead, Earl Whethers. Look at me like I’m crazy.

Because I AM completely, utterly, irrevocably crazy.

“What?” I snap, staring down at my coffee mug.

Fortunately, Mable comes up to our table just then, saving Earl from my intense eyes, and sets breakfast down in front of us.

On the other side of the room, I watch as Kayla sits down at a table by herself. Mable moves to Kayla’s table, and Kayla smiles as Mable introduces herself and starts chatting her ear off.

“This bacon is amazing, isn’t it?” Earl says.

I stare at Kayla and distractedly say, “It’s really good.”

“You know,” says Earl as he butters a piece of toast, “I remember when I first fell in love with Vivian.” He laughs. “It scared the hell out of me. I never felt worthy of her.” He says. “I still don’t.” He looks at me and smiles. “But you know what? I never regretted going after her.” He takes a bite of toast. “And you won’t either.”

I look at Earl and frown. “You want me to go after Vivian?”

“No, dumbass. You know exactly what I mean.”

My eyes catch on Kayla’s eyes across the room and my whole body goes rigid as we lock gazes. I know exactly what Earl means.

33 Kayla

Daren’s eyes.

They’re killers. And if I keep staring into them I’ll be a goner for sure.

I drag my eyes from his and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly on the verge of tears again. Never in my life have I been so emotionally desperate for someone else.

I was supposed to come down here, sign my dad’s estate papers, then start a new life. It was going to be a crappy, poor life, but it was going to be mine—all mine—without anyone else being a wild card that could bail on me or die at any given moment.

But now… now my plan is blown to hell and all I can think about is how I don’t want to leave the crappy little town of Copper Springs because I don’t want to leave Daren Ackwood.

I AM A SAPPY, SAPPY GIRL.

My eyes snag on him again. It’s simply not fair how gorgeous he is. It’s cruel to everyone in the room. He outshines them all. And then add to it that he’s actually a good guy and not some arrogant spoiled frat boy and, well, everyone else may as well just give up on life completely.

I inwardly sigh. Why didn’t I realize what a gem he was when we were younger and I still had a shot? And why was I so unspeakably cruel to him yesterday? My God. I pushed every vulnerable button he had and watched him just fall to pieces. But the worst part? I love him. I watch as he cuts into his pancakes and my stomach does a summersault.

I love Daren. I love his soul. I love that he wants to do the right thing. I even love all his brokenness and misplaced self-worth. He’s crazy and insecure and terrified of getting attached to people and I absolutely love him. If only I’d know this about myself yesterday before I destroyed him with my words.

It’s hard to see love when you have it, but when it’s gone you’re blind to anything else.

He looks up and our eyes meet again. Mine sting with the threat of more tears but I can’t seem to look away from him. He tilts his head ever so slightly, like his big heart doesn’t want to see me sad, and the stinging grows hotter.

Why? Why in the HELL do I suddenly want to cry all the time?

“Good morning,” says a smooth voice. I look up to see Ellen smiling down at me.

“Good morning.” I smile back.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she says.

“Of course not.” I gesture to the seat, and she takes it.

“So. What are you doing today?” she asks.

“Nothing. I have no plan for today or any day after today,” I say wistfully.

She nods. “Okay. Well, do you feel like making a little bit of money?”

I raise a brow. “I’m listening…”

She smiles. “I’m short on staff. My prep cook just moved to Phoenix and I desperately need to hire a waitress, so I was hoping maybe you could jump in today and serve tables for a few hours. I’ll totally pay you.”

My eyes widen a smidge. I could really use the money but I don’t know…

“It would really mean a lot to me,” Ellen adds.

I bite my lip. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah.”

“Excellent!” she says. Then looks across the room. “Oh, some guests are here to check in. I’ll be right back.”

As she heads to the front desk, I grab my purse and search for my lip gloss. The folder of trust fund papers catches my eye and I pull it out. I go through the statements, eyeing all the withdrawals made in Chicago. I tally up all the withdrawals and feel a little sick to my stomach. Not just because of the insane amount she essentially stole from me, but because all that money went to drugs. Her selfishness had no bounds at the end.

I start stacking the papers back into the folder when a page that looks different than the rest catches my eye. I pull it from the group. It’s a printed-out chain of e-mails between my mom and dad when I was nineteen.

Gia,

I just checked Kayla’s trust fund account and it’s nearly empty. What happened? I thought we agreed not to let Kayla use it until she was twenty-five.

James

James,

Some unplanned expenses came up so I dipped into her savings. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be concerned with.

Gia

Gia,

If unplanned expenses come up, you’re supposed to call me, not use Kayla’s money. That was supposed to be for her future. Are you using again? I know Kayla is an adult now, but she still needs you.

James

James,

How dare you accuse me of using. I’m clean. I told you that before. If you’re so concerned about the trust account, why don’t you just replenish it?

Gia

Gia,

You told me you were clean and then you banished me from seeing Kayla. I will replenish the trust fund if you let me speak with Kayla. You can’t continue to keep her from me just because you’re scared I’ll tell her about the trust fund money. It’s been three years, Gia. This has gone on for long enough.

James

James,

It’s not me. It’s Kayla. She doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. And I do NOT have a drug problem. If you won’t put money back in the trust that’s fine. We don’t need your money anyway.

Gia

Gia,

I can’t help you if you don’t want help, but please think about what you’re doing. Kayla needs you sober. You don’t have to love me or the life we used to have, but I need you to love Kayla. More than yourself. More than drugs. I will help you in any way. Just say the word. And please tell Kayla I love her and miss her deeply.

James

The chain of e-mails ends there and I slouch in my chair, stunned. My mother kept me from my father. All these years I thought he just wrote me off, but really my mom hid me away and told me lies. She told my dad lies too. Kayla doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. Did he believe her? Did my father die thinking I didn’t love him?

My hands start to shake and my heart begins to pound.

My addict mom used every penny of my trust account to support her habit, and then blamed our poverty and my needing to drop out of college on my father. Such wickedness. Such dark, black evil.

And all because of her addiction.

She took everything from me, including my father. She made me resent him for no reason. She let me cry myself to sleep at night. She watched my little heart break and she didn’t even bat an eye.

My pounding heart slams against my chest and I can hardly breathe.

“Sorry about that,” Ellen says, plopping down in the seat across from me with a big smile, but her face instantly falls when she sees me. “Kayla, what’s wrong?”

I try to fill her in on what I just read, but my words don’t come out right so I just hand her the printed e-mails. She reads in silence for a moment, covering her mouth as she reaches the end of the chain, then looks up at me with profound sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh, Kayla.” She reaches out and places her hand over mine on the table. “I’m so sorry. This is… this is awful.”

I stare at the tablecloth, feeling tears burn behind my eyes but not yet crying. “Do you think my dad died believing I didn’t want him in my life?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I knew your father well and he loved you, and felt your love for him, very much.”

I blink. “You knew my dad?”

She nods. “He used to stay here at the inn sometimes, when he wanted to get his thoughts clear. He was here a lot this past year.”

“Because of the cancer,” I say, nodding. “I didn’t know he had cancer. No one told me he was sick.”

She frowns. “Are you sure? Because I know your father wrote you letters… and called… several times, actually. I was here when he did it. Your mother didn’t want him to speak with you. But he asked her to pass messages on to you about how sick he was.”

My jaw drops. “My mom knew he was dying and didn’t tell me? Why would she do that? Why would she keep so many things from me?”

Lying about my trust fund was one thing, but keeping my dad’s terminal illness from me? That’s so extreme. And refusing to let a dying man get in touch with his daughter is even worse. My God. The drugs must have really made her a monster.

Sympathy fills Ellen’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kayla. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not you. Clearly, it’s my mom.” I gesture to the e-mail page. “We had all sorts of money from my dad, but my mom squandered every penny and forced us to live in poverty. And forced me to drop out of college.” My voice cracks. “And she kept my father from seeing me. I just—I just can’t believe she would be so vindictive.” I swallow. “And she made me vindictive, too. She filled me with so much bitterness and hurt that I refused to answer when my dad would call me.” I look at Ellen hopelessly. “I didn’t say good-bye before he died. And I didn’t let him say good-bye.”

Oh my God. I didn’t let my daddy say good-bye to me.

Ellen squeezes my hand and leans close. “Your father loved you very much, Kayla. And when your mother wouldn’t let him see you anymore, he was devastated. He wanted to make things right with you before he died, but he was too sick to fly.”

“So he called,” I say in a near whisper. “And I didn’t return his calls.”

I shake my head in silence, my jaw going slack. My father didn’t reject me or ignore me. He just couldn’t get ahold of me.

Ellen reaches out and puts her hand on mine. “On behalf of James, I want you to know that your dad loved you very much. He spoke about you like you were an angel and he was extremely proud to be your father.”

A tear falls down my cheek and onto the tablecloth. “I didn’t know…” I look at Ellen. “I was a horrible daughter.”

She smiles. “No, baby. You were the best part of his life.”

I didn’t know any of this. And now he’s dead and I can’t say sorry for being so hateful toward him for all these years. And my mother is dead so I can’t even confront her about all the pain she’s caused.

My throat closes in, a slow choke wrapping around my neck with icy fingers of betrayal and regret as I blink.

“Please excuse me,” I say with a cracking voice. “I have to…” I scoot my chair back abruptly and hurry from the dining room.

I don’t know where I’m going, I just go. Through halls and rooms and out doors. I put one foot in front of the other until I find myself in a field of lavender under the morning sky. And there I crumple to the ground and sob against the pretty purple flowers.

I sob for my mother and the way she broke my family. How she let my father shower her with love and affection, only to break his heart. How she hauled me away from our sweet hometown and raised me in a big city where I competed with her unending string of boyfriends for her attention. How she took advantage of my love and used me to fulfill her selfish needs. And finally, how she took her own life, the most selfish act of all, and left me all alone in this world.

I sob for my father, who loved my mother despite her flaws and never gave up on her. How he made me sweet scavenger hunts and left me little notes for my locket. How he kept pictures of me and my mother up in the house. How he tried to call me, without an answer. How he made a scavenger hunt for me after his death as a sign of love, even though I hadn’t answered those calls. How he was proud of the baby girl he didn’t get to see all grown up.

And I sob for myself and all the things I didn’t know. I sob for the hurt I blamed on my father and the many years I that believed he’d never sent us money. For the future I let my mother’s habits destroy, and the precious past I refused to let myself indulge in because thinking good memories about my father was too painful.

And I sob for all the chances that I will never have to make any of these things right.

I weep on the pretty purple flowers until there’s nothing left to blame or mourn. Then I turn over on my back and stare up at the sky. Lost.

34 Daren

“So?” Ellen leans against the doorframe of my guest room and cocks her head.

“So… what?” I ask as I finished making the bed.

Ellen lifts a brow. “Are you going to tell me about this Kayla girl or what?”

I exhale. “You’re really nosey, you know that?”

She smiles. “I do, actually. I think it’s one of my more endearing qualities. So what’s the deal?”

I shrug. “Old Man Turner left us some money, apparently. But the condition was that we had to be handcuffed together if we wanted to retrieve it.”

Ellen laughs. Like full-on throws her head back and laughs at the ceiling. “That’s awesome.”

“Not the word I’d use.”

Her laughter tapers off but she keeps smiling. “Oh come on! James leaves you and Kayla an inheritance but forces you two to be handcuffed together for… how long has it been?”

“Three days.”

“Three days!” She laughs again. Then sighs. “I’m going to miss that ol’ weirdo.”

I smile at the pillowcase as I pull it off the pillow to be washed. “Me too.”

Her voice turns sincere. “How are you doing with… you know, everything?”

There’s no point in pretending like I don’t know what she’s talking about because Ellen knows how to magically wiggle her way into my business and make it her own. And if I’m being honest, I kind of like the way she cares.

I let out a long sigh. “I’m doing okay, actually. But Monique got repossessed.”

She makes a sympathetic noise. “That’s too bad. You weren’t able to sell her, then?”

“Nope. My dad was upside down on the loan. I’m trying to save up for a new car since I don’t know how I’ll get back and forth between all my jobs now.”

She straightens in the doorway. “If you need a place to stay, you can always stay here. You can live here for free if you work here, you know. Now that Pixie’s moving out, her room will be free. And I have a feeling Levi’s room might soon be free as well.”

“I told you already. I’m living with friends.”

“Yeah, and you’re a terrible liar.” She smiles. “Listen, I know you haven’t taken me up on this offer in the past, but you can always live here, Daren.” She looks at me sincerely. “Always.”

Warmth flows into my chest as I look at the sincerity in Ellen’s eyes. I haven’t felt so cared for since Marcella. In a lot of ways, Ellen reminds me of a younger, cooler Marcella. Always in a good mood. Always looking out for me and making me feel wanted and special. Man, I miss Marcella.

I smile at Ellen. “Thanks. But for now, I’m good just working here.”

She nods. “Oh! Speaking of which…” She pulls an envelope from her back pocket and hands it to me. “Here’s your paycheck.”

I take it, puzzled. “Payday isn’t until next week.”

She shrugs. “I got a little ahead of schedule this month. Oh, and there’s some cash in there too from your bar shift last week.”

I peer inside and frown at the cluster of bills within. “I only covered for Angelo for a few hours.”

“Well it seems the ladies—and their wallets—love the charming Daren Ackwood.” She shrugs nonchalantly, but I know it’s mostly an act. There’s no way I made this much cash last weekend.

“Ellen…” I say, both frustrated and relieved.

“Also, I called a repair guy today and he said he could pick up Kayla’s car from the lavender ranch and tow it back to Copper Springs tonight. Where should I tell him to park it?”

I shrug. “Have him drop it off at Latecomers.”

“Okay. Be ready to leave this afternoon, okay?” She turns to leave then pauses. “Hey, Daren?”

I look up.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Kayla, but she had a rough morning. So maybe you should check on her.”

My heart pounds. “Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“Come downstairs when you’re done and I’ll fill you in,” she says, and disappears down the hallway.

My first instinct is to run around the inn looking for Kayla until she’s in my arms and I know she’s okay. But then I remember how much she probably doesn’t want to see me and I stay put.

I look back down at the envelope and count the cash inside and almost want to run after her and hug her. Typical Ellen. Always taking care of me when I don’t ask for help.

* * *

Last year, she found me lying in the middle of Canary Road in the dead of the night. Canary is the back road to get to and from Copper Springs from Willow Inn, and even though Ellen spends every waking minute at her inn, she lives in Copper Springs. She was coming back from buying supplies in town when she saw my wallowing ass and pulled her truck to stop at an angle, blocking the road.

I was drunk and depressed, and didn’t give a damn anymore about, well, anything. Charity had just died two weeks prior and I was partly to blame. She and I had just broken up but ended up attending the same party one weekend. We were always breaking up and getting back together, but this particular breakup had been rough. I was hurt and moping around, so when a random girl at the party started kissing me I didn’t stop her. But Charity saw us and stormed out of the party, completely drunk, and died in a car crash later that night. So I blamed myself for her leaving that party drunk and setting a series of tragedies in motion.

My life was already a mess. My drunk dad had nearly killed Conner two months prior and sent my life spinning into a never-ending pit of debt and shame, so I’d already been on the brink of a mental breakdown before Charity’s death. But after…

Like I said, I didn’t give a damn.

I’m not sure if I was really trying to kill myself or not, but I certainly didn’t care either way, which is just as bad. I remember lying in the road with a pair of headlights shining on me, irritated that someone had found me and dared to interrupt the pity party I was trying to have in the street.

Ellen stood over me, looking down at my pathetic existence with an arched eyebrow. Her striking good looks caught me off guard for a moment as I gazed up at her. She was wearing a flowy white shirt and had her dark hair loose around her face. She looked like an angel.

I knew she was Pixie’s aunt, but Ellen and I had never spoken before.

“Did you fall?” she asked me, glancing around to see where I had come from. Honestly, I didn’t even know.

I shook my head, which was heavy with alcohol and heartbreak.

She glanced me over. “Are you sober?”

I shook my swimming head again.

Her long hair slipped over her shoulder as she tilted her head and stared into me with her hazel eyes. Her voice softened. “Do you want some company?”

I started to shake my head again, but it was too heavy and I was too exhausted to lie.

Wordlessly, she lay down beside me in the road and looked up. I remember thinking it odd that this grown woman who barely knew me was willing to sprawl out on the dirty road for my benefit, but I was too hammered to ponder her reasons.

She knew about Charity because Pixie and Charity were best friends. And she knew about my dad because his transgressions had been breaking news around town for the past few months. But she didn’t speak a word about either.

We stayed shoulder-to-shoulder for several silent minutes. Just us and the headlights of her truck.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said after a while, staring up at the sky. “The stars are lovely.”

I stared up at the darkness and all I saw were the things I had lost. My mom. Marcella. Charity. “I don’t see them.”

She slowly nodded. “You will.”

We stayed in that road for who knows how long before I finally pulled myself up with a groan, brushing off the dust and cursing the fog in my head.

“Come on,” she said, helping me to my feet. “It looks like you need a ride home.”

I snorted. In my head, I said, What home? But aloud I think it came out as, “Whamo,” as I stumbled into her.

“Okay.” She caught me and tossed one of my arms over her shoulder so she could guide me to her truck. “I think I have just the place for you to sober up.”

I don’t remember much after that. The next morning I woke up in the clean-smelling sheets of one of Willow Inn’s guest room beds, still wearing my dirty clothes from the night before. I smelled like hell. I looked like hell. But for the first time in several weeks, I didn’t feel like hell.

Later that day, Ellen offered me a job as her stock boy so she wouldn’t have to drive back and forth from Copper Springs to Willow Inn as often. At first, I declined. But she got pretty demanding and, honestly, I needed the money. She offered me free room and board as well, but my prideful ass wasn’t ready to accept total defeat in my own independence yet. But I took the job. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. One of the few.