Unbreakable (38 page)

“Jeremy left me alone at his house one night. He had something to do,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He did that a lot, left me because he had something to do. Jon came home. Found me staring out the window in the library, watching for Jeremy’s car. He came up behind me. We talked. We were both worried about Jeremy, the direction he was heading. Jon put his hands on my shoulders. I leaned back against him. Then he…”

“He what?” Casper asked, not really wanting to know.

“He kissed my neck. He…touched me.”

“And you let him.”

She took a deep breath, was slow to blow it out, as if weighing her admission. “I was lonely. We were both lonely. And Jon…He wasn’t a boy.”

Meaning he knew how to fuck. How to show her the kind of good time his son couldn’t. Or wouldn’t because he was too selfish. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long were you with the old man?”

“I don’t know. Several months.”

“Until Jeremy-boy caught you.”

“It was ugly. He was…ugly. Furious, and I know he was hurt, but the things he said…” Her shudder shook the bed, and
Casper had to force himself not to reach for her. “He’d never loved me. That was obvious. He’d been on the rebound. I caught him. I still don’t know how, or why. There were dozens of girls he could’ve picked from.”

“But he wanted you.”

“And I wanted him. Don’t get me wrong. I tried for a long time to make things work.” She pushed off the bed, turned to face him, her focus on his bandaged hand. “The afternoon he walked in on me and Jon…” She shook her head, her chin trembling, tears welling. “He ran out screaming, got in his car, and took off before Jon could do more than get his pants on. Jeremy didn’t even make it off the street. A big furniture delivery truck had just pulled into the intersection. Jeremy slammed into it. His car was a convertible. And he wasn’t wearing his seat belt. The police said he hit the side of the truck first, then the pavement. Jon saw it all.”

Jesus H. Christ. “Did you?”

“No. I’d started to run out, too, but with Jon half-dressed and sprinting after his son, I knew anyone who saw me would put two and two together.”

“And that two and two could’ve put an end to Daddy’s career.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure he was as worried about his career as he was his place in the family. The prestige of the name.” She looked down, picked at a rough nub of denim on his thigh. “The family had me sign an agreement. And paid me not to talk about the affair.”

“Hush money?”

“That’s not what they called it, but that’s what it felt like. I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t have talked. Who would I have talked to? To what purpose?”

“So what did you sign?”

“The agreement had me giving up all rights to sue over anything arising from the affair.” She closed her eyes, opened them, turned away. “I wouldn’t have sued. It was humiliating. The whole process. Jon sat across the table in the lawyer’s office, so put together, like he belonged in one of those old-money clubs from a British novel. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”

She took a shaky breath, blew it out, and reached for the curtain to catch herself. “I wanted out of there. To never see him again. Most of that was guilt over what we’d done, what had happened to Jeremy because of it. But a huge part of it was shame over the hurt I caused
my
family.”

He watched the play of emotions ravage her face. He thought about Boone and Coach and Mrs. Mitchell having to face what their sister, their daughter had done. And yet…They loved her. He couldn’t see them ever doing anything else, no matter what she’d been mixed up in.

“They sent me off to school, and that was what they got for it. The Mitchells’ perfect daughter, sleeping with a father
and
his son, getting one killed, taking a million dollars from the other. Yeah. Something to really be proud of.”

He wasn’t going to beat her up over something she’d spent ten years pummeling herself for. “How did you get hooked up with Jeremy in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I was bored. He was exciting.”

He found himself grinding his jaw again. “Exciting.”

“Yes, exciting. I was nineteen. You were gone by then. Boone was gone by then. Things weren’t the same. I wasn’t the same.”

“No more cheerleading?”

She tossed back her head and laughed, the sound coarse and bitter. “Are you kidding? I was captain of the squad, but it was less about team spirit than it was about the leadership skills looking good on my college applications.”

Huh. “Colleges like cheerleaders?”

“They like leaders period. Student council presidents. Members of the debate team.”

“And you were those, too.” He’d been gone by then and hadn’t known.

She nodded, as if struck by an absurd truth. “I was a straight-A student with a 4.2 GPA. I was class valedictorian. I scored 1540 on my SATs. All of that got me the scholarships I needed for school, and I don’t regret a minute of the work, but it didn’t leave time for fun.”

“And you wanted to have fun.”

“It seemed like the thing to do.”

“Fucking a dude and his dad seemed like the thing to do?”

“Not that. The rest. Stepping outside of my comfort zone. Living a little. Going wild,” she said with an exaggerated wave of her hands. “Whatever you want to call it.”

“I’d call it being reckless.”

“I guess.”

“Like me.”

She shrugged.

“So that’s why you’re with me now?”

“No,” she said, and he saw in her eyes that she meant it. “Not now.”

“But at first.”

“Maybe that was some of it.”

“And the rest?”

“I think you know.”

“I make you wet,” he said because he was feeling mean. And hurt. And mean.

“If that’s what you think…” She turned, picked up her purse, and stuffed the envelope with his bill inside. He leaned forward as she reached for the curtain and snagged her back.

She didn’t try to pull free, but stopped.

“That’s not what I think,” he told her, letting her go once he was certain she wasn’t going to scamper off like a calf from a chute. “I’m sorry. About all of it.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I have everything to apologize for.” He looked down at his hand, the bandage like a big white flag of surrender. “I know the state of the ranch finances. I should never have come to the bank and asked you for money.”

She met his gaze, hers resigned, the smile pulling at the edges of her mouth a sad one. “I thought it started in the kitchen. When you caught me with the strawberries.”

He groaned, his still-healing ribs aching as he did. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t come to the bank, I wouldn’t have spent that whole day thinking about you giving me a sign.”

“Did you?”

“Oh, yeah. I thought about all the ways it might happen. But in a million years I never would’ve thought I’d find you bent over in front of the fridge. Your tits dangling. Your ass all up in the air. I could’ve popped a load just looking at you.”

Of all things, her face colored. “It wasn’t really a sign, you know. I was just eating out of frustration.”

“Frustration?”

“Because you weren’t there. You said you would be. That we’d talk more that night.”

So she
had
wanted him. From the very beginning. He hadn’t tempted her into something she hadn’t thought about, too. “I tried, but then there was Clay…”

“Do you regret it? Being with me?”

His head came up sharply. “No. Never. Don’t even say that. You’ve been the best time of my life.”

“Been?” she asked, holding his gaze, hers steady while his
wobbled because he didn’t know what she was asking him. What she wanted to hear him say.

“Not been,” he finally said, wanting to add
are
, but that was all he had time to get out before bootheels sounded on the tiled floor seconds before Dr. Pope pulled open the curtain.

“Faith. Casper.” The doc looked from one to the other before consulting his clipboard. He made no comment on what he’d heard, or even an indication that he’d heard any of the conversation Casper wanted to push him out of the room to finish. “You ready to get out of here?”

“I was ready when you whipped that last stitch,” Casper said, and when he glanced over at Faith with a weak smile, she was gone, the curtain swinging in her wake.

O
NCE OUTSIDE THE
ER, the night air like a furnace blast after the frigid hospital temps, Faith took the first full breath she’d managed for hours. It was a shaky breath, unsatisfying, filling her lungs in short, tire-pump bursts, and it came back out just as ragged, tearing holes in the inner tube of her chest. The tears she’d been holding back burned as they filled her eyes.

She looked up, blinking rapidly, the sky a platter of indigo lit by the moon and salted with planets and stars. She wanted to blame her urge to cry on exhaustion, and emotional stress, and a successful party put to rest after weeks of fine-tuning the details. And all of those things were there, but they only added pressure to the root ball of the growing, living sadness inside of her.

That’s where these particular tears sprang from. They felt like mourning, like sorrow. Like the end of something beautiful
that hadn’t had the time it needed to bloom. Like if she took one wrong step, she would fall and break into too many Humpty Dumpty pieces. She wasn’t a fragile egg. She was strong. Look what she’d pulled off in a matter of weeks, the house, the party, the affair…

“Time to cowgirl up,” she told herself, swiping at her cheeks and catching sight of Boone leaning against the front of Casper’s truck where she’d parked it. He pushed off the grill and straightened, pulled his fists from his pockets, and held up his hands. And that’s when she fell, cracked and fragile, Boone catching her before she collapsed to the ground.

She sobbed against his chest, her body wracked, her knees buckling, Boone her only strength because she had none left. She cried for Casper and his childhood and for his house and for herself. She cried for her parents and for the mistakes she’d made and for all the wrong things she’d done. She cried for Clay and for Kevin, for Jeremy and Jon.

And even when she was all cried out, she knew loving Casper was right. He was her everything, strong in ways she wasn’t, selfless behind a mask of crass behavior, a lover who knew what he wanted and took it, all while seeing to her needs. He made her laugh and made her think and made her care.

He had her seeing things through his eyes, and for all he’d gone through in his life, his insight reflected great depth and clarity. He was an amazing, amazing man. How could she not love him? How could she not want to be at his side for the rest of her life?

How was she going to get him to see they were meant to be together—the no-sisters rule be damned, she thought with a sniffling laugh.

Boone brought up one hand to stroke the back of her head, and she nodded. “I think I’m okay now.” But her throat was so
swollen her voice came out sounding like something from a cartoon.

“Try that again,” he said.

“I’m okay. I promise.” She took a deep breath, shuddering with it. “God, what a night.”

“Yep. Party was outstanding. You pulled off a miracle.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

He ruffled her hair. “Thanks for the okra. And the beer.”

“You’re welcome for both.”

He was quiet a moment, then said, “A heads up on the venue would’ve been nice.”

“I know,” she said, moving to his side, his shirt damp with her drooling, snotty sobs. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled the fabric away from his skin. “It’ll wash.”

“Not the shirt, goober,” she said, smacking his chest. “About the house. Not telling you.”

“I knew,” he said.

She frowned, treading carefully. “That I’d decided to have it there?”

“That you paid for the renovations.”

“Casper told you?” she asked, looking up at him.

His dark hair was finger-combed back from his face. His dark eyes glittered, reflecting the parking lot’s lights. His dark stubble shadowed his jaw. “Only after I pressed him about it.”

“I guess it was kinda obvious.”

“Yeah. Hard to believe he was making enough from Summerlin to turn that house around so fast.”

She closed her eyes, leaned into his side. “Pretty stupid of me to think I could keep it a secret.”

“We all do stupid things.”

“You think spending my money on his house was stupid?”

“Depends on why you did it.”

She shrugged, doubting he’d buy her brushing off the reason, thinking of the similar words her father had said. “Seemed like a good cause.”

“Because it was for Casper? Or because the money was burning a hole in your bank account?”

“I never wanted the money.”

“I know that.”

“I felt…dirty, I guess, taking it. I would never have talked about what happened with Jeremy. And Jon. Not to anyone. Ever. I didn’t need a payoff to hush me up.”

“C’mon, Faith. You think you’re the only one who’s found themselves eyeball deep in shit?”

“It doesn’t smell very good climbing out of it.”

“Doesn’t taste very good either.”

Eww.
“Thank you for that.”

“Casper tells me the two of you are together,” he said after several more seconds ticked by, the parking lot lights buzzing, pulling the moths and mosquitoes out of their way.

Together? Is that what he called it? “When did he say that?”

“I dunno. When we were out riding herd the other day.”

Did he feel the same way now? Or had she ruined everything tonight in that tiny third-floor bedroom? “I tried to tell you.”

“I know you did.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Faith.”

“I need you here, Boone. But I need him, too. I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“You could’ve just said that you love him.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head. “I haven’t said it to him, yet.”

“Criminy. You two need an intervention or something.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re not talking to each other.”

“We talk. I tell him things—”

“About Jeremy.”

“He knows.” Finally. Though she hadn’t stuck around for his reaction. What his knowing the truth of her past had changed, if anything.