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“He will? How long?”
“Well, that depends on just how stubborn he is,” she answers.
“So you’re saying our children will be in college before Aden speaks to us again?” I sigh, my hand going to my stomach.
I’m pregnant.
“I’m saying… don’t give up. You got too much good stored up for you to be crying all the time. I raised nine kids on my own and I enjoyed every minute of it. I reckon you can handle two, after all that’s Lucas blood in your veins.”
“You forget my mom’s blood,” I mutter.
“There was nothing strong about that woman and she sure didn’t have staying power. Same could be said for her blood. You’re a hundred percent Lucas, darlin’.”
“Then I guess I better start acting like it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Aunt Ida says with a grin. “Let me ask you a question,” she says, and when Ida Sue grins like that, you should worry.
“What’s that?” I ask cautiously.
“Have you ever thought of getting a pet for the motel? He could be a mascot, cause my Hamburger is getting ready to drop the prettiest little calf…
Oh boy.
fifty-two
aden
“All of Hollywood is a buzz with word of what came down today. Aden McIntyre has signed a record deal to direct a new movie which he co-wrote with Ajay Boston. This will be Aden’s first venture into writing and directing, but you may know Ajay from last fall’s blockbuster motorcycle fueled drama, Breaking Dragon, which was based loosely on real life events involving his in-laws.”
I listen to the reporter on the Hollywood news channel rattle on. I should feel satisfied, but I don’t. My professional career might be back on track, but everything else is a fucking mess.
“Aden has had his share of bad press lately, when just a little over a month ago he was discovered in a small town in Clancy, Idaho…”
I turn the television off at that point. I know what comes next. Pictures of Hope. I don’t need to see pictures of her. She haunts me every night in my dreams. I miss everything about her. I miss her smell, her taste, her smile, her laugh and as fucking crazy as it sounds… I truly miss that frown that would show up on her forehead when she was confused or thinking about something. There are times my finger literally itches to smooth it out again.
I’ve picked up the phone to call her once or twice. I even let it ring through once. Hearing her voice was a big mistake. It felt like I had been sucker punched in the stomach. I hung up without speaking, because in the end I had no idea what I would say.
“You know what they say about watching the news to hear about yourself from other people.”
I hear his voice and bite down the urge to tell him to fucking turn around and leave. It’s not fucking easy.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to check on you,” White answers. I turn around to look at him. It’s been over a month, so I can’t see where I hit him now, but I still like to imagine his jaw swollen and bleeding. Maybe I should hit him again.
“Wanted to see for yourself if your cousin had destroyed me? Sorry. I’m still standing and I’m fine. I’ve been fucked over by women much better at that shit than she was—and they actually meant something to me. You can tell her that too, if you want.”
“If you want her to know something, maybe you should tell her yourself.”
“She’s not worth the trouble.”
“So you’re entirely over her?”
“There was nothing to get over,” I lie with a careful shrug, while avoiding looking at him. Instead I finish throwing my clothes in my suitcase. I head out on location tomorrow to begin preliminaries on bringing my new project to life. I’m looking forward to it. Maybe working night and day will keep me from dreaming about the one woman I can’t have.
“I think you’re a fucking liar.”
“Luckily I don’t really give a damn what you think White,” I answer.
“Hope’s hurting, man.”
“That’s on her,” I shrug, but I’m glad she’s hurting. I want her to hurt, I want her to hurt like I am.
“So, it’s like that? You don’t give a damn about her. It doesn’t bother you at all that she loves you and that her and her son both miss you?”
“She should be on her knees thanking me that she still has her son,” I growl. White has to know he hit the target that time. I sling the last of my items in my suit case, push the top down on it and zip it closed.
“I was wrong about you,” White says. I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the wall by my bedroom door. His arms are folded at his chest and he’s definitely wearing a pissed off vibe, so loudly its broadcasted across the room. It’s still not as bad as me, however. I’ve been pissed off since the day I stormed out of the courthouse and walked to a garage to call a cab, leaving that fucking town behind me. I got back, only to discover my truck had been impounded. I had to pay to get it out and send someone after it—because there was no way I was stepping foot back in Clancy, Idaho ever again.
