There Is No Light in Darkness (4 page)

“You overdid it with the drinking? No way,” Aubry deadpans. He’s such a dick sometimes.

“Yeah, whatever. Just be a gentleman and take care of Aimee while I lie down for a little while. Aimee, is that okay? I’m sorry to leave you hanging,” I say, even though I know she’s elated that I’m leaving them alone.

“No, it’s totally fine. Go. I hope you feel better,” she replies quickly. I see Aubry raise an eyebrow at her quick response. I fail to stifle my laughter as I walk toward my room, leaving them chatting.

After I lock my bedroom door behind me, I run to the desk on the other side of the room and open the envelope from the attorney’s office again. Sure enough, it’s signed Mark Lewis. I need to meet this man in person. I try to shake away the thoughts I keep having about Aimee and the drumming of her fingers. It is a total coincidence I tell myself repeatedly. Total coincidence—except I don’t believe in coincidences.

I lie down with the black velvet box in my hand until Aimee knocks on my door to let me know she’s leaving. I toss the box under my pillow and open the door to her smiling face. I laugh and link arms with her as I walk her to the door.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says as she hugs me goodbye. “Thank you!” she whispers loudly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I reply as we air kiss on both cheeks.

When I walk back to the living room, I see that Aubry’s door is half open, so I peek in.

“Aub?” I call out.

“Come in,” he shouts from his in-suite bathroom.

I walk in and look around at his messy room before I plop down on his comfortable bed. Aubry’s room is bigger than mine, but the view from mine is much nicer, and I have a small balcony, which I love since I have a little set up for my organic vegetables there.

“So what’d you guys talk about?” I ask as I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh, you know, nothing of importance. We set up a sex date for next week. Other than that, not much,” he says in a serious tone.

I wrinkle my nose as I sit up. “What?” I ask as I turn to face him.

He breaks out in laughter. “Just kidding, Blake, damn. I told her I’d call her next week so we can go have dinner.”

“Why next week?” I ask confused.

He exhales harshly. “I don’t know, Blake. I just need time to think about shit. She seems like a nice girl, and she’s hot as fuck. I don’t wanna fuck it up with her.”

I walk over to him and give him a hug. “Good. I think you guys would be good together.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Cowboy. Thank you.”

I smile up at him and go back to my room. Once I’m lying down, I call Cole’s phone.

“Hello?” answers a female voice.

I bite down on my tongue to suppress the urge to growl at her. “Hey, Erin. It’s Blake. Is Cole available?” I say as politely as I can. Why is she answering his phone?

Erin Kelley is a Sports Illustrated model. She’s landed the cover—twice. I hate her. I hate her perfectly non-frizzy wavy platinum blond hair. I hate her skinny, tall, gorgeous body. I hate her lively blue eyes. Most of all, I hate that she has him.

“Hey, Blake,” she replies cheerfully. “He’s in the shower right now. Do you want to leave a message, or do I tell him to call you back? I haven’t seen you in a while. I heard you had a relaxing weekend.”

Oh yeah, and I hate that she’s so damn nice to me.

“Yup. My weekend was pretty uneventful, which I was glad for. Just have him call me back. It’s not that important though. Thanks.”

“I’ll let him know, but I’m sure he’ll call you back anyway,” she replies kindly.

Ugh. Why can’t she be a bitch? It would be so easy to wish bad things on her if she was a bitch. I know why I hate her. I hate her for the same reason Cole hates Russell. The thought of Cole hating Russell makes me smile.

“Thanks again, Erin. Good night,” I reply, smiling into the line. Not that she can see it, but I know she’ll hear it.

I hang up and sit Indian-style in bed, trying to get the image of Erin and Cole out of my head. I’m still clutching my phone in my hand and trying to figure out whether or not I watered my tomato tree today when it starts vibrating. Cole. I smile—a showing-all-my-teeth, ridiculously goofy, “I feel like I’m fucking fifteen again” smile.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Cole says hushed.

I always loved that he called me that. Now I wonder if he calls her that. My stomach drops at the thought, and suddenly, I hate it.

“Do you call her that?” I ask a little rougher than I intended.

He laughs—a full-out belly laugh. I hate him. “Why? Would it bother you if I did?”

“No,” I lie as I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

“Yes, it would. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking me,” he replies, and I can hear him smiling. I want to scratch his eyes out.

“Whatever. Don’t answer me. I don’t want to know,” I say annoyed. “I called to ask you if you’ve heard anything from that P.I. of yours.”

Cole doesn’t remember how he ended up in foster care. Maggie said his dad dropped him off when he was a toddler. He only remembers a couple of things before his dad dropped him off, though. One being an episode of Transformers that he watched—very helpful. I spoke to my therapist about it once, and she says it could be Cole’s way of blocking out the pain of being abandoned.

He exhales into the line, and I shudder at the chill that goes down my spine. I can almost feel his breath against my ear. “No, I don’t. Why? Did you find something?” he asks, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. His P.I. has gotten nowhere on the hunt for his father. I’ve been helping him search, but we always draw a blank. We can’t even find a birth certificate with his name on it.

“No, sorry. Not really. I’m not sure. Maybe,” I say before letting out a frustrated groan. I’m so confused that I can’t even think straight anymore and I don’t want to tell him anything yet. I don’t even know if there’s anything to tell. I’m going on a gut feeling here.

“I’m going to see the lawyer again on Thursday. I had to schedule the meeting with his assistant again. My friend, Aimee, says he’s here, but when I requested him, they told me he was out of town.”

“Damn. That’s so weird, Blake. Let me know what happens when you go.” I hear noise in the background, and Erin starts saying something to him, but thankfully I can’t make out what it is. “I have to go, Cowboy. Call me after your meeting. Lo—” I shut my eyes tightly and hold my breath. “Later,” he finishes and I exhale.

“Yeah, good night. Thank you for the necklace. It’s really beautiful.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ve had it for a while.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Oh, Blake?” he calls out before I press End.

“Yeah?”

“Only you.” With that, he hangs up.

I smile to myself because now I know I’m the only one he calls that stupid belittling nickname. And I love it. Yeah, I’m an idiot.

Chapter Four

Past

I couldn’t even bring myself to cry during Aunt Shelley’s funeral. I sat through the services with a blank stare on my face, feeling desolate. I knew there were a lot of people around me paying their respects as I kept my head down. I didn’t see anybody—just darkness. The only thing going through my mind—why does everybody that I love leave me? My answer was the same every time—it’s me ... It must be me.

After her casket was lowered to the ground, I sat in front of the gaping hole, thinking about how much it reminded me of my heart. Phoebe—the nosy neighbor I was staying with until I packed up—told me to take as long as I needed. I couldn’t find my voice to tell her that it wasn’t going to be long enough. I sat staring at that hole with a rose in my hand for hours. When Phoebe got up, a man sat in her place.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly, his own voice full of agony.

I remember wishing I could meet his gaze, even for one second, so he could know I heard him. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t let him see the emptiness in my eyes. I’d just lost the last person I had left in my life, and I couldn’t even cry for her. What did that say about me? I wondered. Instead, I sat staring at his shiny black shoes.

“Thanks,” I whispered. He sat there a little while longer, and then I saw his black shiny shoes get up and walk away.

A couple of days after the funeral, Phoebe drove me to Mrs. Parker’s house. That was the longest car trip of my life. I was headed to yet another unknown home. I felt like a bag of hand-me-downs being tossed from one home to the next. I saw a sign that read: “Welcome to Peoria” and I knew we were there. Phoebe pulled into the driveway of a large two-story home with a two-car garage. The neighboring houses all had the same look. They were brick with manicured topiaries, and I couldn’t help but wonder what a foster home would be doing in the middle of this neighborhood.

I was expecting an ugly gray house. That seemed more fitting. I hesitated for a while before I unbuckled my seat belt and stepped out of the car. I walked over to the trunk and waited for Phoebe to open it. Phoebe owned an old wooden-paneled station wagon—the ones that used to be popular in the late seventies or early eighties. I was pretty sure she got the car when it first came out. I was impatiently tapping my foot as I waited for her. She was a heavy-set white-haired woman, and it took her an hour to walk from the driver’s seat to her trunk.

“Hey, you Blake?” a male voice asked behind me.

I tilted my head to one side and instantly got a crick in my neck. I cringed and began to massage it as I looked at the guy standing in front of me. He was probably about my age—thirteen—but much taller than me. He had dirty-blond hair and a lanky, long body. I craned my neck as best as I could to look into his hazel eyes. He reminded me of one of the kids that was in my class last year.

“Yeah, and you are?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk today. I just wanted to get in the house and lock myself in my new room.

“Aubry,” he said, extending his hand to me so I could shake it. I looked at his long thin fingers for a beat before I slid my hand in his and shook once.

“You live here, too?” Screw it. Might as well be polite to the kid.

“Yeah, it’ll be three of us now,” he shrugged. He had really big shoulders, but they were hollow looking. It looked like Mrs. Parker didn’t feed the boy enough.

“Do you eat?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows together and pursing my lips.

Aubry laughed, and when he did, the creases around his mouth showed. He looked like he laughed a lot. He was cute. He seemed genuine. I liked him. I’d become an expert at reading people. Well, at least I thought I had.

“I eat a lot. Momma says if it weren’t for my metabolism and swimming, I’d be a cow.”

I nodded my head and forced a polite smile.

“Mrs. Parker is your mom?” I asked, confused. Phoebe told me that Mrs. Parker fostered kids, but I didn’t expect them to be that close to her.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at me like I was an idiot.

“Cool,” I replied with a shrug.

Phoebe finally made it to the trunk and put her key in. As she greeted Aubry, I got my suitcases out and started lugging them toward the front door when Aubry stopped me and picked two up for me. Before we made it all the way to the door, another boy stepped outside. He was dark; his skin looked like smooth chocolate. He was tall—the same height as Aubry—but his build was muscular. He had big almond-shaped brown eyes, and his black hair was low on his head. He smiled brightly at me, and I was almost blinded by his perfect white teeth.

“Hey,” he said as he eyed me up and down and made his way outside. I replied by nodding. “I’m Greg.” He stood in front of me and grabbed the suitcase out of my hand.

“Thanks. Blake. Nice to meet you,” I replied. He waved off my thanks as no big deal and turned back to the house.

“So he’s the other guy?” I whispered to Aubry who was now walking next to me.

“Nah, he lives a couple of houses down,” Aubry stated. “He goes out with my cousin Becky, and she’s always here, so he’s always here. Cool dude.”

We headed inside and a round fair-skinned woman with short brown curly hair up to her shoulders walked toward us with a huge smile on her face. I let out a breath when her kind brown eyes found mine.

“Oh, aren’t you the prettiest little thing?” she cooed before wrapping her arms around me. “I’m sorry for your loss, honey. God has a plan for all of us. I’ll make sure you’re happy here.” She whispered the last part so that only I could hear. I wondered which loss she was sorry for. I wondered if she even knew about my many losses. I nodded against her shoulder but didn’t reply.

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here,” I said quietly once she let me go.

“Nonsense,” she said loudly. “You will do no such thing. You will bother me as much as you can, and you will call me Maggie. None of that Mrs. Parker thing around here.”

I gave her a small smile and looked around. The wooden stairs were to the right, directly in front of the front door. To the left, there was a sitting room with a large burgundy cloth couch and a white coffee table. Mrs. Parker laughed when she saw me crinkle my nose as I looked at the room.