The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 (32 page)

He was almost a hundred percent certain the phone had been there when he and Baylee had been pulled over. But like one of those normal, everyday routines, he supposed it was possible that he hadn’t had the phone with him when they’d left the house that morning. On rare occasions in the past he had forgotten it and come home to discover it on his desk or the nightstand.

If the phone had been in the car, would the police have left it there? He had no idea.

He didn’t bother with the breathing routine, but instead let loose with a healthy dose of profanity and a temper tantrum that any two-year-old would have been proud of, punctuating it by using all of his strength to slam the driver’s-side door shut.

He retraced his steps to the police station.

By the time Trey pulled in to his driveway, he was so disgusted he didn’t know what to do. The officer on duty seemed unconcerned that his cell phone had gone missing while his vehicle was technically in police custody. Trey couldn’t file a report about a stolen phone unless he was sure it had been stolen.

He searched the house, looking in all the logical places he might have left his phone, becoming more and more convinced that he’d had it with him that morning. The phone must have been in the car when. The car had been towed and the phone had disappeared.

He hadn’t bothered reconnecting a land line when he’d ordered Internet service because all he needed was a computer and a cell phone, which he already had. He’d thought about driving to his parents’ to make some calls, but he didn’t feel up to explaining the day’s events to them either. Briefly, he thought of calling Baylee and letting her help him out. She was, after all, his assistant. But he wasn’t ready to see her or talk to her, either. That surprised him a little, because he was crazy about her. He was pretty sure he was in love with her. But he was also majorly pissed at her. He couldn’t get over the way she’d turned on him, believed the worst about him without giving him a chance to say anything.

Although she had tried to apologize earlier, it hadn’t seemed the time or the place, and besides, he hadn’t been ready to hear it. If he’d had a phone, he’d probably have called her and told her not to come to work tomorrow. He needed another day or two to cool off and get his thoughts and feelings together before they had a conversation. Since he couldn’t call her, he’d simply arrange not to be here when she arrived. Tomorrow he’d stop by his parents and use their phone to call the insurance company and the cell phone company. Maybe he’d take his mom out to lunch. He’d stay away from the house until he was good and ready to come home. If Baylee had left for the day by then, so much the better.

Plan in place, he rummaged around in the refrigerator for a quick meal. He flipped through the channels on the television while he ate, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything he saw. He took a long, hot shower and downed a couple of ibuprofen. Tomorrow, he assured himself, everything would look brighter.

“Hi, Jenny.”

“Baylee, are you all right?…Seth, give me that. Oh, no you don’t. Seth! One. Two. Good boy. Thank you… Sorry.” From her end of the phone, Jenny sounded out of breath.

“Hey, look, I’m fine.” Baylee didn’t want to rehash details of her life with her best friend. She was in no mood for one of Jenny’s well-meaning lectures. “I called to tell you I’m leaving town for a while.”

“Leaving? What do you mean? Where are you going? When are you coming back?”

“Jen, I’m not sure about anything right now. I’ve got a lead on a job, but I’ll be in touch, okay? Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for a bit, though.”

“Baylee. What are you talking about? You can’t leave. What about Trey?”

“What about him?”

“Is he going with you?”

“No. That’s over.”

“What do you mean it’s over? Baylee… Seth! What did mommy just tell you? Leave the kitty alone.”

“Jenny, I’ll call you. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Baylee—”

Baylee pressed the End button on her cell phone.

For Trey, the following day proved no less frustrating than the one before.

His mother had generously offered the use of her cell phone but declined his offer of lunch in Asheville. She had a morning appointment scheduled with her hair stylist and an afternoon Apple Festival planning meeting. So Trey spent the day alone, with only his mom’s cell phone for company, which, he realized, was entirely useless to him. At the police station he reported the phone stolen and waited for them to write up an official report. From his parents’ land line he’d called his insurance company and his cell phone carrier. The numbers of anyone and everyone else he might have called, including Baylee, were on the SIM card of his missing phone.

A duplicate of his state-of-the-art cell phone would have to be ordered and shipped to him. He’d considered throwing another fit when the clerk told him they didn’t have any in stock. Instead, he thanked her, climbed into the Cayenne and did his breathing routine until he felt calm enough to drive.

It would have been a good idea, he realized now, to have a list of all those contact numbers somewhere besides inside the cell phone itself. He should have told Baylee to create a file for that in his laptop and print out a copy so it would be readily available should he ever lose his phone. Live and learn.

He knew almost the moment he walked in the door of his house that Baylee had not been there. He didn’t have to check any further. The house felt as empty as it had that morning. If she’d been there and left, he’d have known it. Somehow she left a spark of energy behind each time she departed, something he could sense even after she was gone.

He grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and took it out to the porch. Lowering himself into one of the chairs, he sipped and silently contemplated the fact that he missed her. If she had called him, he wouldn’t know it. He couldn’t call her. He didn’t have his cell phone contact list and he didn’t know her number.

He could, however, stop by her house. Find out why she hadn’t come to work today. Find out if everything he’d thought about her, about
them
, was wrong. If it was, he didn’t want to know. His relationship with Baylee had seemed right in a way nothing had in a long time. Fresh. New. Without too much baggage to weigh it down in spite of their past history.

Tomorrow, he decided, as he drained the last of the soda. If she didn’t show up for work, he’d track her down and they’d have that conversation.

“Dad, I’m leaving.” Baylee entered the kitchen where Dan was poring over the newspaper. A mug of black coffee sat steaming nearby.

“You’re sure about this?” Dan asked. He’d asked her the same question yesterday after she’d told him about the job offer and her plan to pursue it.

“I need a job, Dad. This is the first nibble I’ve had in months of sending out résumés. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll look for something else, but I feel like I have to go.”

Dan’s gaze searched her face. “What about…?”

“What?”

“Well, Trey. Aren’t you even going to tell him you’re leaving?”

“I tried. I called him. I left a message. I told him how sorry I was. He hasn’t called back. I haven’t heard from him at all.” Baylee bit her lip, shifting her gaze away from her father and blinking rapidly. “I think it’s over.”

“Are you sure? Because he sure seemed to care an awful lot about you. He told me that day he came to see me in the hospital.”

“I said such hurtful things to him. I can’t take them back. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dan pushed a chair out. “Sit down for a minute.”

When Baylee didn’t immediately take the seat he’d indicated, he said, “Just for a minute.”

Baylee complied, wary of what her father might say. They hadn’t talked much since the family sessions during his stay in rehab.

Dan contemplated his cup of coffee as if he might find an opening there. He’d never been much of a communicator. That had been her mother’s department. As she was about to rise, to tell him it was okay, they didn’t need to talk, he spoke.

“When I came home the other day and Matty was here, I told him there was very little in life that couldn’t be fixed.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and glanced at Baylee. “Words of wisdom from the old man, huh?”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Matty. The only time you lose your chance to fix things is when someone dies. I found that out the hard way when I lost your mother. Matty didn’t believe me. Didn’t think there was anything he could do to make up for what he did wrong. It’ll take some time and some effort on his part, but he’ll move past it. He’ll find a way to repair the damage he did, as long as he doesn’t give up. I think Trey will forgive him. I hope you will too.”

“I have. I did.”

Dan looked at her again. “Maybe in your head you have. Your heart might take a little longer. But that’s what I’m saying. You’re both still here, so there’s a chance to fix things, to make them right again. For you and Matty and for you and Trey.”

Baylee had to look away from her father’s knowing eyes. She blinked rapidly and gazed out the window at the overgrown wisteria bush outside the kitchen window. If Trey wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t return her call, wouldn’t listen to her, how could she fix anything between them? Already a part of her dreaded ever speaking to him again, of hearing his voice tell her they were done. That it was officially over.

“That’s it,” Dan said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “Dad’s words of wisdom. Long overdue and probably not worth much.”

“I appreciate it, though,” Baylee said. At least Dan was trying to help, even if it was hopeless. She stood and so did he. “Bye, Dad. Thanks.”

“Bye, honey. At least think about what I said.”

“I will.”

Trey could feel the black hole he’d crawled out of almost two years ago opening up beneath him. He remembered that crash-and-burn feeling, knowing he’d hit rock bottom, he’d lost everything and he had nowhere to go but up if he wanted to survive. He’d hated every second of the climb back out of the mess he’d created for himself with drugs and booze in an effort to mask the physical and emotional pain he was in.

Somehow, right now, the lure of the black hole beckoned, called to him. In its comfort of oblivion he wouldn’t have to care, wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to hurt. Wouldn’t have to acknowledge that Baylee was gone. She’d taken off at the first sign of trouble, the first crack in his armor. The first time his past came back to haunt him in a serious way, she bailed on him.

Although Baylee’s father had willingly given him Baylee’s cell phone number when Trey explained why he didn’t have it, Dan claimed not to know where she was. Neither did Ryan, nor, Ryan swore, did his wife. Baylee had a possible job offer somewhere in Florida, and she’d be in touch. That’s all anyone seemed to know, including Matty when he tracked him down at the animal shelter. Trey had been certain Matty was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know where Baylee was.

Damn her!
He drove his fist into the kitchen wall. The old plaster cracked, but whatever was behind it, a two by four or a brick wall, held, and Trey cradled his hand while his knuckles began to swell.

He stared at the coffeemaker and knew coffee wasn’t going to cut it this time. He needed a drink. A nice, strong drink. Whiskey. Bourbon. Scotch. He didn’t really care. Something, anything, to take the edge off. He didn’t have to drive. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. He had no one. He also had nothing to drink.

Unless Grandpa Mike or Grandma J had left something behind. Trey began opening cabinets in the kitchen. He’d been through most of them and knew there wasn’t much there. His grandparents hadn’t been drinkers, although occasionally he’d seen Grandpa Mike share a beer with his dad. Grandma J had liked those sweet, fruity, frozen drinks and occasionally ordered one if they were out to dinner for a special family event. She’d get mildly tipsy and giggle like a little girl. Trey had thought it was funny.

But it gave him something to do, rummaging through the cabinets, searching high and low for a bottle of something. The kitchen turned up nothing, unless he wanted to chug a bottle of red wine vinegar.

He turned on the light in the mudroom and looked around at the shelves where Grandma J had stored old jelly jars and flower pots. The gardening miscellany was a jumbled mess. Grandpa Mike had a shelving unit of his own which held jars of screws and nails and other hardware. Old doorknobs, an ancient drill, machinery parts and a few dusty tools.

Trey opened the cabinet beneath the big laundry sink and began removing half-full bottles of cleaning supplies, insect repellant and bug killer. Something dusty and dark brown glinted from the furthest corner. Trey shoved aside moth-eaten cleaning rags and a disintegrating sponge and reached for the bottle.

He had no idea how many years of dust coated the outside, he only cared about the contents. He stared at the label, which was a brand of whiskey he’d never heard of. He unscrewed the sticky cap and sniffed the stale aroma of well-aged booze.

I don’t give a damn
, he reminded himself. He took the bottle out to the porch, settled himself in his favorite chair, propped his leg up and took a swig straight from the bottle.