“Hello?”
“Cally?”
“Drew? Where are you?”
“I’m in Indianapolis.” She’s whispering and her voice is thick with tears. “I’m at the big hotel by the stadium. Can you come get me? Please?”
The whole world goes still around me. She told me she was staying with a friend tonight. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m scared. Please come get me.” She takes in a shaky, hicuppy breath. Hell, she’s crying. “Please.”
“Are you with Brandon?” Even as I hope she’ll say no, I already know she is.
“Don’t be mad. He said that if I came with him, he’d give me the money for Dad’s house, but he’s scaring me. He gave me these clothes. A dress and this skimpy underwear and he made me put them on.” Another shaky sob. “He said he’d kill me if I called the police. He has some people here in the other room now. He doesn’t know I’m on the phone. He keeps calling me Cally and he won’t let me leave. I’m scared. Please come get me.”
“I’m on my way.” Fear skates through my stomach on a razor edge, leaving shreds behind. I close my eyes and grab my purse. My gun is inside, and I say a prayer I won’t have to use it. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
The last thing I am in the mood for tonight is the opening for the fall exhibition. The doors to the event opened an hour ago, and I’ve spent most of it in my office, hiding my face and my mood from unsuspecting patrons.
There’s a knock on my door, and I ignore it, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. My solitude is destroyed at the scrape of a key in the lock. Which can mean only one thing: Maggie. No one else has the key to my office.
She sweeps through the door, wearing a long, strapless black dress, her hair in some sort of twist at the back of her head. The minute she sees me, her jaw drops and her eyes widen.
“Holy shit!”
“I know. I really make this suit, don’t I?”
She grins and tilts her head to inspect the bruises on my face. “Of course you do, and once I get past the ground burger someone made of your face, maybe I can appreciate that. What happened?”
“I cut myself shaving.”
She props her hands on her h*ps and narrows those sharp green eyes. “Does this have something to do with Cally?”
“She’s not responsible for my stupidity.”
“Who did this?”
“Give the credit to the as**ole she’s married to.”
Her face falls and she lowers herself into a chair. “She’s married?”
“She’s not only married, she’s leaving. Or she already left. Fuck if I know.” I lean back. My body aches in places I didn’t know I had, and my heart hurts so f**king bad I wish I could cut it out of my chest. “I knew she had secrets, but I never imagined this.”
“Did she tell you the rest of her secrets?”
“The rest of what secrets? She’s f**king married. If there’s something worse than that, I don’t want to know it.”
“The truth is always more complicated than it appears,” Maggie says softly. “Maybe the same is true of her marriage.”
I shake my head. “She was talking about staying until the first time he showed up, then everything changed. I thought maybe she was afraid of him.”
“How do you know she’s not?”
I set my jaw against the pain, remembering the conversation. “I asked. I told her I’d protect her.” And f**k if my pride isn’t in worse shape than my face. She chose him over me. I should be used to this shit by now.
“You big idiot. How hard did he hit your head? A woman who’s afraid of her husband is going to lie about it nine times out of ten. But when looking at the mess said husband made of her lover’s face, she’s going to lie about it one-hundred percent of the time. She’s trying to protect you.”
I hear a sharp gasp and I look up to see Meredith standing in the doorway.
“Who did this to you?” she demands. Her heels click against the floor as she rushes over to me and gently touches my face. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know that girl has something to do with this. I wish you’d stay away from her.”
“You should see the other guy,” I grumble.
She turns to Maggie. “What happened to him?”
“I’m sitting right here,” I growl.
“He got in a bar fight.”
Meredith narrows her eyes. “A bar fight?”
Maggie nods sagely. “I told him he needs to stop hanging out at the titty bar, but does he listen to me? No, he doesn’t.”
I scowl at her. “Seriously?”
“I don’t believe for a second this happened at a titty bar,” Meredith says.
She shrugs. “Tell your sweet little girl here the truth, Will. Tell her you can’t get enough of the titty bar.”
“Would you both stop saying titty bar?” I blow out a hard breath, hoping to send some of my frustration with it. “Maggie, will you excuse us? Meredith and I need to talk.”
“Fine,” Maggie says, standing begrudgingly. “I’ll be downstairs doing your job if you need me. But think about what I said.”
I wait until Maggie closes the door behind her before I speak. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Meredith’s cheeks flush and she drops her gaze to her hands. “Thank you.”
“I also hear everyone thinks it’s mine.”
“I didn’t say that. Not to anyone.”
“But you didn’t correct them.”
“I thought it would be better this way. You know, in case we reconcile.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re batshit crazy, woman.”
She lifts her eyes to mine and they’re glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not crazy. I’m in love. Your grandmother told me you can’t have children. She told me about the football accident. I knew how much you wanted a family and I thought….Well, I thought if I could give it to you, maybe you’d choose me.”
She’s biting her lip and worry lines crease her forehead. She’s really beautiful, and I know she can give me all the things I’ve spent the last three years craving madly—a life, a family, love. But I don’t just want those things. I want them with Cally.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You and I will never work.”
“Because you love Cally.”
“Yeah.” And it’s true. I still love her. Still want her. I’d forgive her for all of it to have her in my arms just one more time.
“Well, at least you know she loves you too.”
“How do you figure?”
She looks at her hands for a minute before bringing her eyes back up to meet mine. “I offered her twenty-thousand dollars to leave town and stay away from you.”
“You did what?”
“I thought she was going to take it. I really did. But she didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I love you, and I knew she needed the money.”
“Jesus, Meredith! That’s not love! That’s manipulation. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She throws her hand over her chest. “I don’t want her dad to lose the house. I thought it was a nice compromise. But apparently she’s going to let you pay for that too.”
“Why would her dad lose the house? What are you talking about?”
“She didn’t tell you? Arlen Fisher’s house is in foreclosure. The bank is going to auction it off.”
“Shit.” I drag a hand through my hair. Of course she didn’t tell me. She doesn’t want my money.
“Can I ask you something without you getting angry with me?”
“You just told me that you offered the woman I love twenty-thousand dollars to leave town.”
She nods. “Okay. Point taken. So, nothing to lose, right?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about Cally.” I push back my chair and stand.
“This isn’t about her. Not exactly.” She stands too and skirts around me until I’m looking at her. “You say you want family and stability, but have you ever noticed that you tie yourself to women who you know can’t or won’t give you that?”
I step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She lifts a finger. “First, Maggie, who never loved you, not the way you deserve at least.” She holds up a second finger. “Then Krystal, who would have been the perfect choice—except she’s Maggie’s sister, so that was doomed from the start.” She holds up three fingers. “And now Cally? Even if you can get over her juvenile record, she’s married, and to a man who spent the last four years in prison no less. You say you want something real and I’m standing right here, but you’re choosing her instead.”
My jaw hardens and it aches from where Brandon’s knuckles connected with it yesterday. “What do you want from me, Meredith?”
She shrugs. “I just want you to be honest with yourself. It’s okay if you want to be alone. It’s really all you’ve ever known—being alone and wishing for more. That’s safe for you. But at least do me the courtesy of admitting it.”
“I don’t want to be alone. But that doesn’t mean I want to be with you.” I exhale slowly. “I never meant to hurt you.” Then her words sink in. “Cally’s husband spent the last four years in prison?” Jesus. How young was she when she married him?
“Didn’t you read the file Carl York put together for you? It’s all in there. The dirt on her husband, their marriage certificate, the juvie record from her escapades as a call girl.”
Her words hit me hard and unprepared. “Her escapades as what?”
“You didn’t even look at it, did you? You’re rejecting me for a former prostitute. Don’t you get that?”
I ignore her and dig through the stack of paperwork on my desk until I find the unopened manila envelope Carl York mailed to me. I tear it open and flip through the papers, past the background check on Brandon McHugh, past Cally’s juvenile record, until I reach the copy of their marriage certificate. The date stares up at me in bold, black print. “She was sixteen.”
“Her mom would have had to give written consent. You’d think she would have looked into him before permitting it.” She leans over me and flips through more papers until she pulls the one she’s been looking for. “Two years before he married Cally, he got picked up with an underage prostitute. Apparently he has a thing for the young ones. Heck, maybe prostitution is how they met. Like in Pretty Woman.”
I’m already grabbing my keys. I need to find her. I need to stop her from leaving. Her words echo in my head. “I loved you enough to let you go. That’s the truth. Someday soon I’ll have to do it again, and it will still be the truth, even if you can’t accept it.” She isn’t leaving with Brandon because she loves him. She’s leaving because she loves me.
“You really don’t care about her past?” Meredith asks behind me as I rush toward the door.
“It’s called unconditional love, Meredith. I recommend you try it.”
Maggie bursts into the office. “I just got a call from the Marion County jail. They’re holding Cally for shooting her husband.”
LAST NIGHT, I did something I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told my story to the police. The whole thing. From my mom’s drug addiction to the loan I took from Anthony to how I came to meet and marry Brandon McHugh to why I shot him.
Okay, I did two things I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told the police my story and I shot the bastard who thought I was something that could be bought.
Honestly, once I’d told my whole story, I think the detectives were surprised I didn’t aim for center mass when I found Drew in his hotel room.
Brandon will be going back to prison. There was already a warrant for his arrest in Nevada, and he had all sorts of drugs in his hotel room. I don’t know too many details. I don’t care about anything but the fact that Drew is safe, and I managed to get away from Brandon without killing him.
When the police cruiser drops me off at Dad’s, the sun is starting to rise. The first thing I do is look for Drew. She’s sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around her middle, and I sink down next to her and pull her tight against me.
The silence is sweet, and I’m scared to break it. When the police came, they separated us for questioning, so I didn’t get to ask any questions.
Right here, in this quiet moment, I am blissfully ignorant of what happened to her before I got to the hotel room. I almost don’t want her to speak, as if me not hearing the truth could save her from it. But that only works one way, and tonight it’s Drew that needs saving.
“I’m going to ask you questions, and I need you to tell me the truth.”
“You’re going to be so mad at me,” she whispers. It’s dark in the living room, the morning sun just now starting to show her head outside our windows. I can barely make out the tear streaks that glow against her perfectly smooth skin.
“What’s done is done, Drew. I need to know some things.”
“Okay.”
I take a breath. It feels like the first I’ve taken in days. My chest is still tight with panic. Even with Drew next to me—safe—it’s still hard to breathe. “Are you hurt?”
“He slapped me. Shoved me a little. But I’m okay.”
“Cally?”
“Drew? Where are you?”
“I’m in Indianapolis.” She’s whispering and her voice is thick with tears. “I’m at the big hotel by the stadium. Can you come get me? Please?”
The whole world goes still around me. She told me she was staying with a friend tonight. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m scared. Please come get me.” She takes in a shaky, hicuppy breath. Hell, she’s crying. “Please.”
“Are you with Brandon?” Even as I hope she’ll say no, I already know she is.
“Don’t be mad. He said that if I came with him, he’d give me the money for Dad’s house, but he’s scaring me. He gave me these clothes. A dress and this skimpy underwear and he made me put them on.” Another shaky sob. “He said he’d kill me if I called the police. He has some people here in the other room now. He doesn’t know I’m on the phone. He keeps calling me Cally and he won’t let me leave. I’m scared. Please come get me.”
“I’m on my way.” Fear skates through my stomach on a razor edge, leaving shreds behind. I close my eyes and grab my purse. My gun is inside, and I say a prayer I won’t have to use it. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
The last thing I am in the mood for tonight is the opening for the fall exhibition. The doors to the event opened an hour ago, and I’ve spent most of it in my office, hiding my face and my mood from unsuspecting patrons.
There’s a knock on my door, and I ignore it, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. My solitude is destroyed at the scrape of a key in the lock. Which can mean only one thing: Maggie. No one else has the key to my office.
She sweeps through the door, wearing a long, strapless black dress, her hair in some sort of twist at the back of her head. The minute she sees me, her jaw drops and her eyes widen.
“Holy shit!”
“I know. I really make this suit, don’t I?”
She grins and tilts her head to inspect the bruises on my face. “Of course you do, and once I get past the ground burger someone made of your face, maybe I can appreciate that. What happened?”
“I cut myself shaving.”
She props her hands on her h*ps and narrows those sharp green eyes. “Does this have something to do with Cally?”
“She’s not responsible for my stupidity.”
“Who did this?”
“Give the credit to the as**ole she’s married to.”
Her face falls and she lowers herself into a chair. “She’s married?”
“She’s not only married, she’s leaving. Or she already left. Fuck if I know.” I lean back. My body aches in places I didn’t know I had, and my heart hurts so f**king bad I wish I could cut it out of my chest. “I knew she had secrets, but I never imagined this.”
“Did she tell you the rest of her secrets?”
“The rest of what secrets? She’s f**king married. If there’s something worse than that, I don’t want to know it.”
“The truth is always more complicated than it appears,” Maggie says softly. “Maybe the same is true of her marriage.”
I shake my head. “She was talking about staying until the first time he showed up, then everything changed. I thought maybe she was afraid of him.”
“How do you know she’s not?”
I set my jaw against the pain, remembering the conversation. “I asked. I told her I’d protect her.” And f**k if my pride isn’t in worse shape than my face. She chose him over me. I should be used to this shit by now.
“You big idiot. How hard did he hit your head? A woman who’s afraid of her husband is going to lie about it nine times out of ten. But when looking at the mess said husband made of her lover’s face, she’s going to lie about it one-hundred percent of the time. She’s trying to protect you.”
I hear a sharp gasp and I look up to see Meredith standing in the doorway.
“Who did this to you?” she demands. Her heels click against the floor as she rushes over to me and gently touches my face. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know that girl has something to do with this. I wish you’d stay away from her.”
“You should see the other guy,” I grumble.
She turns to Maggie. “What happened to him?”
“I’m sitting right here,” I growl.
“He got in a bar fight.”
Meredith narrows her eyes. “A bar fight?”
Maggie nods sagely. “I told him he needs to stop hanging out at the titty bar, but does he listen to me? No, he doesn’t.”
I scowl at her. “Seriously?”
“I don’t believe for a second this happened at a titty bar,” Meredith says.
She shrugs. “Tell your sweet little girl here the truth, Will. Tell her you can’t get enough of the titty bar.”
“Would you both stop saying titty bar?” I blow out a hard breath, hoping to send some of my frustration with it. “Maggie, will you excuse us? Meredith and I need to talk.”
“Fine,” Maggie says, standing begrudgingly. “I’ll be downstairs doing your job if you need me. But think about what I said.”
I wait until Maggie closes the door behind her before I speak. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Meredith’s cheeks flush and she drops her gaze to her hands. “Thank you.”
“I also hear everyone thinks it’s mine.”
“I didn’t say that. Not to anyone.”
“But you didn’t correct them.”
“I thought it would be better this way. You know, in case we reconcile.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re batshit crazy, woman.”
She lifts her eyes to mine and they’re glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not crazy. I’m in love. Your grandmother told me you can’t have children. She told me about the football accident. I knew how much you wanted a family and I thought….Well, I thought if I could give it to you, maybe you’d choose me.”
She’s biting her lip and worry lines crease her forehead. She’s really beautiful, and I know she can give me all the things I’ve spent the last three years craving madly—a life, a family, love. But I don’t just want those things. I want them with Cally.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You and I will never work.”
“Because you love Cally.”
“Yeah.” And it’s true. I still love her. Still want her. I’d forgive her for all of it to have her in my arms just one more time.
“Well, at least you know she loves you too.”
“How do you figure?”
She looks at her hands for a minute before bringing her eyes back up to meet mine. “I offered her twenty-thousand dollars to leave town and stay away from you.”
“You did what?”
“I thought she was going to take it. I really did. But she didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I love you, and I knew she needed the money.”
“Jesus, Meredith! That’s not love! That’s manipulation. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She throws her hand over her chest. “I don’t want her dad to lose the house. I thought it was a nice compromise. But apparently she’s going to let you pay for that too.”
“Why would her dad lose the house? What are you talking about?”
“She didn’t tell you? Arlen Fisher’s house is in foreclosure. The bank is going to auction it off.”
“Shit.” I drag a hand through my hair. Of course she didn’t tell me. She doesn’t want my money.
“Can I ask you something without you getting angry with me?”
“You just told me that you offered the woman I love twenty-thousand dollars to leave town.”
She nods. “Okay. Point taken. So, nothing to lose, right?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about Cally.” I push back my chair and stand.
“This isn’t about her. Not exactly.” She stands too and skirts around me until I’m looking at her. “You say you want family and stability, but have you ever noticed that you tie yourself to women who you know can’t or won’t give you that?”
I step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She lifts a finger. “First, Maggie, who never loved you, not the way you deserve at least.” She holds up a second finger. “Then Krystal, who would have been the perfect choice—except she’s Maggie’s sister, so that was doomed from the start.” She holds up three fingers. “And now Cally? Even if you can get over her juvenile record, she’s married, and to a man who spent the last four years in prison no less. You say you want something real and I’m standing right here, but you’re choosing her instead.”
My jaw hardens and it aches from where Brandon’s knuckles connected with it yesterday. “What do you want from me, Meredith?”
She shrugs. “I just want you to be honest with yourself. It’s okay if you want to be alone. It’s really all you’ve ever known—being alone and wishing for more. That’s safe for you. But at least do me the courtesy of admitting it.”
“I don’t want to be alone. But that doesn’t mean I want to be with you.” I exhale slowly. “I never meant to hurt you.” Then her words sink in. “Cally’s husband spent the last four years in prison?” Jesus. How young was she when she married him?
“Didn’t you read the file Carl York put together for you? It’s all in there. The dirt on her husband, their marriage certificate, the juvie record from her escapades as a call girl.”
Her words hit me hard and unprepared. “Her escapades as what?”
“You didn’t even look at it, did you? You’re rejecting me for a former prostitute. Don’t you get that?”
I ignore her and dig through the stack of paperwork on my desk until I find the unopened manila envelope Carl York mailed to me. I tear it open and flip through the papers, past the background check on Brandon McHugh, past Cally’s juvenile record, until I reach the copy of their marriage certificate. The date stares up at me in bold, black print. “She was sixteen.”
“Her mom would have had to give written consent. You’d think she would have looked into him before permitting it.” She leans over me and flips through more papers until she pulls the one she’s been looking for. “Two years before he married Cally, he got picked up with an underage prostitute. Apparently he has a thing for the young ones. Heck, maybe prostitution is how they met. Like in Pretty Woman.”
I’m already grabbing my keys. I need to find her. I need to stop her from leaving. Her words echo in my head. “I loved you enough to let you go. That’s the truth. Someday soon I’ll have to do it again, and it will still be the truth, even if you can’t accept it.” She isn’t leaving with Brandon because she loves him. She’s leaving because she loves me.
“You really don’t care about her past?” Meredith asks behind me as I rush toward the door.
“It’s called unconditional love, Meredith. I recommend you try it.”
Maggie bursts into the office. “I just got a call from the Marion County jail. They’re holding Cally for shooting her husband.”
LAST NIGHT, I did something I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told my story to the police. The whole thing. From my mom’s drug addiction to the loan I took from Anthony to how I came to meet and marry Brandon McHugh to why I shot him.
Okay, I did two things I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told the police my story and I shot the bastard who thought I was something that could be bought.
Honestly, once I’d told my whole story, I think the detectives were surprised I didn’t aim for center mass when I found Drew in his hotel room.
Brandon will be going back to prison. There was already a warrant for his arrest in Nevada, and he had all sorts of drugs in his hotel room. I don’t know too many details. I don’t care about anything but the fact that Drew is safe, and I managed to get away from Brandon without killing him.
When the police cruiser drops me off at Dad’s, the sun is starting to rise. The first thing I do is look for Drew. She’s sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around her middle, and I sink down next to her and pull her tight against me.
The silence is sweet, and I’m scared to break it. When the police came, they separated us for questioning, so I didn’t get to ask any questions.
Right here, in this quiet moment, I am blissfully ignorant of what happened to her before I got to the hotel room. I almost don’t want her to speak, as if me not hearing the truth could save her from it. But that only works one way, and tonight it’s Drew that needs saving.
“I’m going to ask you questions, and I need you to tell me the truth.”
“You’re going to be so mad at me,” she whispers. It’s dark in the living room, the morning sun just now starting to show her head outside our windows. I can barely make out the tear streaks that glow against her perfectly smooth skin.
“What’s done is done, Drew. I need to know some things.”
“Okay.”
I take a breath. It feels like the first I’ve taken in days. My chest is still tight with panic. Even with Drew next to me—safe—it’s still hard to breathe. “Are you hurt?”
“He slapped me. Shoved me a little. But I’m okay.”
