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The fake smile is back when she leaves the bathroom, holding the door open so I can shuffle inside.
“Don’t fall in there.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her, not waiting for her to close me inside before pulling my t-shirt over my head.
She doesn’t gasp or trail her eyes down me this time, and I hate that it might be because I upset her. I’m a fucking champion at taking things too far and regretting it later.
She leaves me alone in the bathroom, lost in thoughts of too much tequila and memories I still don’t know which ones are real.
“Sunshine?”
She pulls the door right back open as if she hadn’t even walked away from the door.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“Swear to God, if you ask me to shave your nuts…”
I cringe, my head pulling back so far I nearly fall. “Really? You say that like you’ve honestly been asked that before.”
She nods, her lips curling up into a smile. God, I live for the days when I’m able to pull a real one out of her.
“You wouldn’t be the first to ask, and as always, the answer is no. Do you really need help in here?”
I can’t even remember why I called her back.
“Do you want to see me naked?” I tease, my eyes brows waggling.
“I saw you naked many times while you were unconscious.”
My smile drops quickly, the reminder of how I was helpless and had to be taken care of so completely making me wish I hadn’t even opened my mouth.
“I’m good,” I tell her before turning to face the bench so I can finish getting dressed.
The ringing of her phone trills from inside the room, and a second later, she closes the door, her answering hello drifting under the door.
I hear bits and pieces of her conversation, but I can’t hear enough to really decipher what’s going on, other than whatever it is upsets her.
I startle, my thumbs in the waistband of my sweats, when she knocks on the door.
“Brent?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” I cringe at the endearment.
“There’s an emergency and I have to go.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she says rather than answering my question. “Pull the light if you need help getting out of there.”
That light draws Rachel into the room. After what Sunshine told me, I’m more likely to lie on the floor and wait for her to return before doing that.
Chapter 13
Sunshine
My hands are shaking as I pull up to the third red light I’ve hit since leaving work. I pull on my seatbelt, realizing I skipped that step in my haste to get to the gas station.
Sobs clog my throat, but I don’t have time to pull over and cry.
Red and blue flashing lights swim over everything as I pull up. Three cop cars are in front of the store, all angled in a way that makes me think they pulled up in a rush. Fear strikes out at me, threatening to drop me to my knees.
Did the clerk not give me all the information? Is it worse than what he said over the phone?
I walk toward the front of the store on wobbly legs, my eyes darting around.
First, they land on Travis, and I’ve never felt more betrayed by the man than I do right now.
“Sunshine!” he yells, trying to get up, but the rough hand of the cop standing beside him keeps him sitting on the ground. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head, utterly disgusted at the sight of him.
“Ma’am?”
I snap my head in the direction of the female cop standing in front of me.
“Where’s my son?” I demand.
“He’s safe, ma’am.”
“Take me to my son,” I growl, the motherly instinct of needing to see with my own eyes that he’s safe stronger than the part of me that has never disrespected an officer before.
She steps in my path before I can walk around her.
“I’m going to have to ask you to keep your distance. This is an open investigation.”
“And you have the fucking criminal sitting on the ground,” I hiss, pointing at Travis. At least he has the foresight to drop his head and look crestfallen over what he’s done.
“It’s an open investigation, ma’am,” she repeats in a voice calmer than the situation deserves.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
She looks over her shoulder as if she’s trying to determine whether she’d be allowed to even speak to me.
“Do you have children?”
Her jaw tightens. “Two young boys, One the same age as your son.”
“Could you imagine being in my position?”
She shakes her head as I angrily swipe at the tears rolling down my face.
“Your husband—”
“He’s not my husband.”
“The boy’s father went inside the store to buy more beer. He left the car running.”
I try to rush past her, realizing I didn’t see Travis’s beat-up truck.
