Fate Interrupted 3 (13 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Dean stared at
the broken pieces of his cell phone, cursing himself for losing his temper. Evy
was probably trying to call him right now to apologize, or meet somewhere in
the middle, and he would have no way of knowing until after a tedious trip to
the Sprint store with its bright lights and drawn out customers. “Shit!” He
kicked the broken pieces against the wall, knowing that trip would have to wait.
His hands found his face and rubbed, regret setting in with exhaustion. They
were to be married in less than two weeks and
this
happens. He snorted at the timing of it all, knowing that…

The patio door
slid back on its tracks, jerking him from his thoughts. His heart jumped into
his throat. She was back. He had left the door unlocked on the offshoot such a
thing might happen. They had always agreed never to part ways angry and now Evy
was back to live up to their promise. The blinds clattered against each other, moving
back and forth in a plastic wave, giving him brief glimpses of her jeans. She
divided the blinds with tented hands and brought the summer heat inside with
her.

Dean stumbled
back into the coffee table and nearly toppled over as Megan stepped into his
condo in slow motion – like the Terminator in one of those frantic scenes where
everyone is scrambling for safety. When she smiled at him, relief washed over
him. He had fallen asleep and it was just a nightmare. The first few years
after his parents’ sudden death, he could sometimes figure out he was in a
nightmare and make himself wake up. And this was definitely one of those times
because Megan would never have the balls to come over to his place, let alone
smile at him like that. Not after everything she had put him through. No one
was that crazy.

“I know what
you’re thinking but before you kick me out, I just want to apologize for last
night.”

He grappled for
words, trying to blink himself awake and failing. He wiped sweat from his brow.
“This is the last time I get a garden level condo,” he muttered, his voice
sounding like someone else’s.

She crossed the
living room in a pair of blue high heels that clacked against the dark hardwood
flooring. Her pungent perfume reached out and trailed its claws over Dean’s face.
His stomach rolled as the Victoria’s Secret fragrance scratched his cheeks, resurrecting
painful memories inside.
That
first night with Megan here in this condo.
The baby.
Clay Crawford and
Sugars.
Dean swallowed dryly, his heart pumping blood too fast
through his veins.

Mr. Ryder.

These thoughts
haunted him like restless spirits inhabiting an old mansion he could not
escape.

Then it hit him
in the blink of an eye.

Evy and he would
never escape. Not together. Together, the memories only doubled in pain.

“Get out,” he
managed to say, sidestepping the coffee table.

She came closer,
a sheepish look on her face. “I ran into Evy last night and…said some things I
shouldn’t have.”

He shook his
head to clear the cobwebs of a sleepless night. “I don’t care.”

“Dean,” she
said, setting a warm hand on his chest. “I had a few too many last
night
and I just want you to know that will
never
happen again. I promise.”

He knocked her
hand away and the realization that this wasn’t a dream hit him like a
sledgehammer. “Just you having the nerve to come here, let alone speak to Evy
last night, tells me that you are so fucking psycho there is no possible way
you can raise a child. I’m calling social services.”

Her face
softened. “Jack is doing just fine.” She paused with that goddamn smug look tacked
onto her face. “He has your eyes.”

Dean’s pulse
thumped in the hollow of his neck. His palms sweat. The room began a lazy spin.
“You crazy bitch.”

She took a step
toward him. “I know you and Evy are getting married soon. And I don’t want
either of you worrying about seeing me ever again, because you won’t. And I
mean it, Dean.”

He laughed, pressing
up against a wall.

She looked up
into his big browns and smiled warmly. “My family has put you through enough
but if you ever need anything, I will always be here for you. I owe you at
least that much.”

His face
hardened, empowering his strong jaw line as his blood reached a boil. “The only
thing you
owe
me is your absence from
my life.”

Megan stared up
at him in silence. Her blue eyes watered. Her lower lip trembled. “And that is
exactly what you will get. I am so sorry for all of the pain my family has
caused you. It wasn’t fair and I know that now. Unfortunately, it took my
father going to prison to see it but I see it.”

“Get – the hell
– out.”

She replied with
a tight nod, a tear streaming down her cheek. “Can I get just one hug before I
leave? I don’t want this to end on a bad note.”

His face
crumpled. “Little late for that, don’t you think?”

“You’re right,
I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away the tear. A coy grin suddenly slithered
across her lips and her voice softened. “I know what will make you feel
better,” she said, unbuttoning her breezy top.

Dean’s eyes
bulged from their sockets. He stared in revulsion at the firm breasts peeking
out from behind a lacey bra, his jaw dragging on the floor.

She looked up
from her prized assets, slowly popping buttons. “Go on, you can touch them. I
won’t get mad at ya.”

He grabbed her
by the wrists and stopped her from going one button further. Her breasts
bounced with the movement and Megan laughed. The blinds clattered against each
other and Dean turned to see Evy step inside. The color drained from his cheeks,
running for cover like he wanted to do right now. His heart kick started into a
panicked overdrive. He released Megan’s wrists and stared at Evy through
pleading eyes. “This isn’t what you think.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Ben lumbered
back into the living room with a can of Shaun’s homemade beer in each hand,
face as white as a ghost. He stared at Brooke, lips mouthing words that
wouldn’t take flight.

Brooke hopped
over her sweats and dashed into the bedroom.
“Really, Ben?
You’re going to start drinking already? A little help at the shop today would
be nice,” she said, turning on the shower in the master bath. “We’ll be lucky
if Tasha hasn’t already burned the place down.”

He shambled into
the master bath on heavy legs to see her step inside the shower. Steam began fogging
over the glass door. “These are empty.”

She opened the
door and poked her head out. “Okay?”

He gestured with
the cans. “These are what I heard fall on the foyer floor.”

“Well…thank you
for picking them up, can man Joe.” She shut the door and disappeared into the
fog.

Ben sauntered
closer, scruffy jaw dangling. “These cans were inside the cooler,” he said over
the spraying water.
“The cooler that was sitting on the floor
underneath the sofa table.”

Brooke didn’t
respond.

“With the cooler
lid closed.”

The door cracked
open and Brooke’s green eyes appeared through the steam. “What is your point?”

He lifted the
cans higher. “How did they get out?”

She frowned at
him. “Stop playing around, Ben. I have to go.” She shut the door again. “You
know that stuff freaks me out!”

“I’m not playing
around, Brooke. Somehow the cans got out of the cooler and onto the floor. I
know you saw me set that cooler down when we got home.”

The shower
sprayed.

“We were
together the whole time.” He paused. “Naked!”

The door cracked
open again and Brooke stuck her head out. Water ran from her dark hair to the
tiled floor, concern in her eyes. “What if I can’t get pregnant because our
house is haunted?”

His eyes
wrinkled around the edges. “I’m being serious here, Brooke.”

“So am I! I
mean, what if spirits can stop women from getting pregnant - like radiation or
stress?”

He dropped his
arms to his side. “That’s impossible.”

“How do you
know?” She slipped back into the warm fog and clicked the glass door shut.
“Google it!”

“I’m going to
take some EVP readings and then I’m going to bed.”

“I thought you
were coming in to help us! You need to teach Tasha how to make The Marilyn.”

“You can teach
her.”

“I can’t
remember what’s in it.”

“Brandy,
Prosecco
and grenadine.
Pair it with
Evy’s new
Fluffernutter
.”

“I’ll never
remember all of that!”

“I’ll write it
down. And hey, do me a favor.”

“What’s that,
sweet cheeks?”

“Talk your
sister off the ledge. Dean is a good guy and he had no idea those girls were
coming last night.”

“I know he’s a
good guy,” she yelled over the water.

“Then why
doesn’t Evy? She’s the one marrying him.”

“She knows
Dean’s a good guy. She’s just…constantly being reminded of his past.”

Ben rolled his
eyes. “Why does everyone talk about him like he used to be a serial killer?”

The door cracked
open again, the shower spay louder. “Don’t say anything to Shaun or Jon but
Dean once dated the best friend of my stylist.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded,
dripping water onto the floor. “Not for long though.”

“Why didn’t you
tell me this before?”

“I tried to keep
it a secret but you know me and secrets.”

“Oh, trust me, I
know. The whole world knows I watch
Downton
Abbey
now thanks
to you.”

“I think it’s
cute.”

“So what’d your
stylist say?”

“Amber-Lynn said
her friend, Jocelyn, told her that one time she took Dean back home to Omaha
for Christmas…”

“When was this?”

“Few years ago I
think, but on Christmas Eve, Jocelyn wakes up in her parents’ guest room to
find Dean gone.”

“Okay?”

“So she slips
out of bed and goes downstairs to find him, thinking he’s probably watching TV
because apparently he doesn’t sleep in weird places.”

“That makes two
of us. I hate hotels.”

Brooke wiped
water from her eyes. “But get this –
allegedly
– Jocelyn finds Dean downstairs…bending her mom over the kitchen island and
giving it to her from behind.”

Ben tipped his
head back and laughed. “Bullshit!”

“Dean told Jocelyn
that her mom came onto him, but, let’s
face
it, nobody
forced him to get a boner.”

Ben slowly shook
his head. “Wow, guy really likes kitchen islands, huh?”

“But I don’t
believe a thing that Amber-Lynn says. She’s a total gossip queen.”

Ben snorted.
“Just the same, you better keep an eye on him when your parents come for the
wedding.”

“Don’t be gross,”
Brooke said, slipping back into the steam, “I don’t believe half the stuff I
hear about Dean. Scorned women are the most vindictive types out there,
Benjamin.”

“I guess so.”

“Even if it was
true, Evy changed him into a different person. He’s not like that anymore and
my gut is never wrong.”

Ben clicked the
door open and peered inside. “Do you need me to get your back?”

The shower
turned off. “I’ve got to go. I can guarantee you Evy won’t show up for work
today. She’s a train wreck.”

“Just don’t let
her blow this thing up into something it’s not.”

Brooke reached
out and grabbed a towel. “Don’t worry, she’ll get over it.”

Chapter
Twenty-Five

Megan cupped a
hand over her mouth, feigning her shock at
getting caught
with her hand in the cookie jar. Evy trembled from the spike of adrenaline
shooting through her system. Her chest rose and fell beneath her
hoodie
as her eyes processed what they were seeing. The
edges of the room curled and went fuzzy like an old black and white photograph.
She blinked blankly at Megan, unable to find her voice.

Megan lowered
her hand and traded a look with Dean. She turned back to Evy, shamefaced and
apologetic. “I’m sorry, Evy…but Dean and I are in love and nothing will ever
stop that.”

Dean rotated his
head over to Megan, eyebrows slanting at a steep angle, mouth wide open. “What?”
he shrieked. “No, we’re not!”

Megan ignored
him and stepped into Evy’s face, hitting her with an icy glower. “And the
sooner you understand that, the sooner…” She stopped midsentence when Evy’s fist
found her stomach. Megan doubled over, gasping for air that would not come.

Evy watched
Megan drop to her knees. “You were saying?”

Megan replied
with a series of wet sounding hacks and fell onto her side.

Dean stepped
forward and Evy pointed at him, turning him to stone.

“Don’t,” she
yelled, letting a baleful scowl sink in until it burned. “Just…don’t!” She took
one last look at Megan before bursting out the patio door, ponytail flopping wildly
against her back.

Dean returned
his attention to Megan to make sure that had really just happened, the long
blinds swinging back and forth. Megan confirmed it by curling into the fetal
position and gasping for breath. Her choking sounds mixed with the humming air
conditioner in his thick head. Dean blinked the fog from his eyes and sprang
into action, bolting outside. Halfway down the community walkway, he caught Evy
by the elbow and spun her around.

“She’s full of
shit,” he panted, chocolate bangs spilling from his ball cap. “Don’t listen to
a word she says.”

Evy shook free
of his grasp. “I’m done listening to any of you.” She glanced over her shoulder
at the patio and quickly turned for the parking lot before
those we don’t speak of
came stumbling out in her stupid high
heels.

“Evy!”

 
Evy didn’t stop and he didn’t follow but her
shadow did, moving fast to keep up.