Daisy Does It All (Clover Park, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (25 page)

He found his brother serving up coffee. The ice cream section of his shop was closed for the morning. No one wanted ice cream on a cold February morning.

“Shane, I need Gabe’s number. I’m going to sue Jessica Larsen and Rogue TV.”

Shane raised his brows and finished up the coffee order, handing it to a customer. He came out from behind the counter. “Slow down. What are you talking about? You want to sue?”

“Did I stutter? Did you see the way Jessica Larsen just destroyed Daisy on national television?”

“No, I didn’t catch it. I was working.” He grimaced and motioned for him to follow him to a quiet table in a corner of the shop. “How bad was it?”

Trav pulled out a chair and sat. “Bad. She showed Bryce screaming, Daisy’s apartment, her apology blog post; then she kept showing the interview and pointing out the lies. Even Sally Phillips blabbed about us not being married.”

Shane crinkled his nose in disgust. “Sally ratted you out? What happened to loyalty?”

“I know! We’ve got to sue.”

“Slow down there,” Shane said. “Does Daisy want to sue?”

“I didn’t ask her.”

“Yeah, well, ask her first. If I were her, I would want to let it die down. A long court case, that you might not even win, just makes it drag out, not to mention what you’ll spend on lawyer’s fees.”

“I’ll talk to Daisy later.”

“I don’t think going to court is a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask you what you think! Just give me the number.”

The door opened, and Rachel Miller, Liz’s best friend and Shane’s secret crush, walked in. Shane stood and gave her a little wave. “I have to get back to work.”

Trav wrapped Shane in a headlock. “Give me the number; then you can see your
friend
.”

Shane broke free. “Knock it off!” His face was bright red.

Rachel approached. “Oh, are we giving noogies? Let me get in on this action.” She rubbed her knuckles on Shane’s head. He let her with a smile.

Trav appealed to Rachel. “Shane won’t give me the number of his lawyer friend so I can sue Jessica Larsen for her exposé on Daisy.”

Rachel shook her head. “I caught that this morning. I think you should sue. I know a couple of lawyers. I could hook you up.”

“Thank you,” Trav said. He fished his card out of his wallet and handed it to her.

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Shane said quietly.

Trav was sick of Shane’s let’s-all-get-along attitude. “And I still think you should stop pretending you want to be just friends with Rachel and ask her out already.” He raised his brows at Rachel to see how she took that news.

She cocked her head to the side, watching Shane for his reaction.

Shane flushed, opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Don’t worry about it.” Rachel flipped her braid over her shoulder. “We’re just friends for a reason. Friendship lasts longer than the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Hook me up with some caffeine, would ya?”

~ ~ ~

Trav stopped by Ry’s place to check in on Daisy. She’d told him she’d be staying there a little longer. Reporters were lined up on the sidewalk and rushed toward him with their microphones.

“Are you Daisy’s pretend husband?” one asked.

“What made you do it?”

“Did you think the truth wouldn’t come out?”

He pushed past them. “No comment.” He stopped at the front door. A couple of them had followed him to the porch. “This is private property. Back off before I call the cops.”

They backed off, but the cameras were still focused on him. He knocked on the door. Daisy answered, half hiding behind the door, and let him in.

“Hi.” Her voice was a monotone. She still wore her pajamas—a pair of Ry’s old jogging pants rolled at the waist and ankles, and one of Ry’s old sweatshirts. She’d never gotten home for more clothes. Liz was shorter than her, and she probably couldn’t wear her sister’s clothes without sticking out of them.

“Hey,” he said. “I can stop by your place and pick up some clothes for you.”

“These are fine.”

“Did you catch the show?”

“No. I told you I wasn’t going to watch it.”

“I’m getting the name of a lawyer from Rachel. You can sue. Jessica had no right to come down so hard on you and your personal life.”

“Keep your voice down. I finally got Bryce to sleep.” Daisy shuffled into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee sat. “Help yourself to coffee.”

He ignored the coffee and joined her at the table. “Just say the word, and we’ll go after that bitch.”

“No. It’s done. I’m done.”

Her tone. Her tangled hair, pale face. The utter resignation set off alarm bells in Trav’s head. Of his mom and her struggle with depression that ended in her suicide.

“Daze, you can’t just let her get away with it.” He leaned forward, staring into her blank expression, trying to reach her. She turned away. “You have to fight back.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to fight. I screwed up. Nothing she said could have been any worse than the truth. I lied to millions of moms. Moms who struggled just like me, who felt like they had to live up to some standard I made up.”

“No, you inspired them. You gave them hope.”

“I gave them shit.”

Panic rose up in him. The signs of depression—hopelessness, fatigue, not taking care of herself. He couldn’t lose her like he lost his mother. Their son needed her most of all.

“Daze, please. Maybe you should talk to someone. You can talk to me. Or maybe a therapist. Depression is treatable.”

Gran had made him see a therapist when he was seventeen as an alternative to letting the police deal with his latest fuck-up. He’d refused to speak the entire first month, but once he had, he’d learned to let go of his anger over his mom’s death. Letting go of all that anger had changed his life. It didn’t bring her back, but it had helped him breathe easy again.

Daisy looked at him blandly. “I’m not depressed. I’m just screwed up. Permanently screwed up.”

“You’re not. I swear you’re not.”

She slipped off the engagement ring and wedding band he’d given her and pressed them into his palm, closing his fingers around them. “Keep them. I’m done lying.”

“No, Daze, you hang onto them.” He set the rings on the table.

She stared at her coffee, her hands in her lap. “Please go. I want to be alone.”

His gut churned. This couldn’t be happening all over again. He couldn’t go through that again.

“Now,” she snapped.

“I’ll go. But I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

She turned and stared out the window, dismissing him.

He left and immediately called Ry. It went to voicemail. “Call me as soon as you can. It’s Trav.”

~ ~ ~

Trav showed up at the police station in Fieldridge, looking for Ryan. He found out he was out on a call, so he sat down to wait in one of the cold, hard plastic chairs in the front room of the station. Trav knew he shouldn’t be bugging Ry at work, but no one would understand the need to treat depression better than his brother. He was the one who’d found their mother.

He dropped his head in his hands, memories of that horrific time flooding his already frazzled brain. He’d been fifteen and in no hurry to get home after school, as usual. He’d taken the long way home and joined a game of Wiffle ball on Rico’s street.

His dad pounced on him the minute he stepped in the door. “Where’ve you been, son?”

“I stopped to play some ball.”

His dad’s mouth formed a grim line. Trav took a step toward the kitchen. He was starving.

His dad snagged his sleeve. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Trav figured he was in trouble again. Usually he was grounded for a week, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking out late at night when everyone else was sleeping. His friend Matt’s big brother kept them in beer, which they drank in the woods behind Matt’s house.

They sat side by side on the sofa.

“Your mother died this afternoon,” his dad said woodenly. “She died in her sleep. Peacefully.”

“What? She wasn’t even sick! She’s not that old!”

“Sometimes these things happen,” his dad said.

That’s when he realized his brothers weren’t around. “Where’s Ry and Shane?”

“They’re in their rooms.”

There had to be a mistake. Any minute his mom would come out of her room.

Trav’s voice came out small, barely a whisper. “Where’s Mom?”

His father held back a sob that came out sounding choked. “The ambulance took her away.”

“I want to see her! I didn’t get to say goodbye!”

“I’m not taking you to the morgue. You’ll say goodbye at the funeral.” His father pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to make arrangements. Go see Ry.”

He’d run to Ry’s room. His brother was lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, in utter silence. At least Ry wouldn’t fall apart on him like their dad.

Trav turned on the light. “Is it true? Did Mom really die in her sleep?”

Ry sat up, squinting his eyes against the glare of the light. “Yeah, she did.”

Trav’s eyes searched his brother’s. “But it doesn’t make any sense. She wasn’t sick.”

Ry looked at his hands clasped tightly together. “She’s gone, and no amount of thinking on our part is gonna bring her back.”

Trav broke down in tears. Ry sat in silent witness.

Shane peeked in the doorway. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know, bud,” Ry said. “You guys can stay in here tonight, if you want.”

Trav and Shane, being the youngest, shared a room while Ry had his own. They got through the week camped out on Ry’s floor.

After the funeral, Trav had felt so much rage. It had been an open casket. She had looked perfect. No wounds so he crossed murder off his list. Still, he knew his dad had lied to him about his mom dying in her sleep. He wasn’t stupid. It had to have been suicide. After everyone had returned to school and work, Trav had skipped out between classes and returned home to search for proof. There had to be a suicide note. His mom wouldn’t have left them without a goodbye.

He’d torn apart his father’s room, going through every dresser drawer, the nightstand, under the bed, under the mattress, through the closet, everything, and came up short. Had his father thrown out his wife’s last message? Burned it?

He went through the trash and came up with nothing. Then he searched Ry’s room. It would be just like his big bro to try to protect him from the truth. Nothing.

He’d about given up when he thought of his dad’s briefcase. Would he take it to work? He waited, biding his time until his dad took a shower the next morning. He searched the briefcase, nothing. Just stupid marketing plans. He eyed the black leather wallet sitting on top of the dresser with some loose change.

The shower turned off. He’d have to be quick. He opened it, money, pictures—their wedding picture, school pictures of him and his brothers that were at least five years old—then he found it. In a small slot behind the credit cards. A folded-up note.

The suicide note.

Her last words to them: “I love you all.”

How could she say she loved them and then leave them like this?

The bathroom door opened, and he faced his father, holding the note.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” his dad snapped.

“You lied!” Trav yelled. “I hate you!” He’d dropped the note and ran, out of the house, down the street, to the far edge of town—the woods behind Matt’s house where they kept a stash of beer.

Ry had found him huddled in the woods, empty beer cans all around him. “Come home, Trav.”

Trav looked up, bleary eyed. “You knew, didn’t you? You lied too!”

Ry looked at the ground.

Trav jumped up and shoved Ry with both hands. “Just tell me the truth!”

Ry met his eyes, a grim expression on his face. “I knew. I’m the one who found her. I wish I hadn’t. I hoped you wouldn’t have to have that in your head either.”

“I hate you, you liar!” He pounded Ry’s chest, furious with all the lies, with the unfairness of it all. Ry wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close so his arms were pinioned too tight to punch anymore. Trav stopped fighting and went limp. Then he cried, big, heaving wails of misery.

Ry let him cry until he had no tears left. Then he walked him home.

Trav thought of the night before her death often in the coming weeks. She’d been in her pajamas and robe all day, like usual. Something that was a red flag looking back. He’d been in bed reading. She’d tried to tuck him in.

He untucked the blanket from his legs. “I got it, Ma.”

She smoothed his rumpled hair off his forehead. “You ever think about flying out that window to Neverland any more?” She smiled, her sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and sprinkled pixie dust over him.

“I’m too old for that,” he said, though he secretly liked that she remembered. It had been a long time. Years.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, her hair tickling his nose. “You’re never too old for dreams. Think happy thoughts and fly in your dreams.”

His mother had finally flown. Forever young in Neverland.

Now, Ry was in front of him in his uniform. “Hey, what’re you doing here? I was gonna call you back. I just had to check in on an accident.”

Trav exhaled sharply. “Something’s wrong with Daisy. She’s…ever since Jessica figured out the lie, she’s been so…depressed. She’s staying with you. Do you think she needs treatment?”

Ry sat next to him. “She’s not like Mom. Anyone would be upset with all this blowing up in their face. Liz says she always lands on her feet.”

“Did you notice how pale she looks?” Trav asked anxiously, working hard to keep the panic at bay. “And she looks so tired. She’s not taking care of herself.”

“She’s taking good care of Bryce, though.” Ry clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She’s got her priorities straight. Give her time. It’s temporary, I promise.”

Trav let out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”

“And as long as she’s living with us, Liz’ll fuss over her, so there you go.”

Trav smiled. Liz did cluck over Daisy like a mother hen, even though Liz was the younger sister.

Ry stood. “Those damn reporters better stop hounding her. I couldn’t get out of my own driveway this morning.”