Unworthy Heart: The Donnellys, Book 1 (12 page)

Ryan had already pulled out her suitcase and computer bag and set them on the curb. “You sure you don’t want me to park and help you inside?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

He pulled her into an embrace. “Yeah, you are.”

She stiffened, but relaxed when he stroked his hand up and down her back. Unable to stop herself, Maiya wrapped her arms around him.

He nuzzled her hair. “Will you call me?”

“Do you want me to call you?”

“Yes.” He pulled back from her. “I want to see you again.”

“Of course you’ll see me again. I’ll be back in two weeks.” She tilted her head to the side. “We still have a project to finish.”

He rubbed her arms. “That’s not what I meant. I want to spend time with you again, outside of work.”

“We’ll see.”

His brows drew together in a look of confusion, but then he brushed a soft kiss over her lips. Warmth spread through her and when he pulled away, she licked her lips.

“Call me when you’re on the ground, okay?”

She blinked, her mind caught in a haze. “Sure.”

He stepped away from her and rounded the back of the car.

Maiya stood, lips still tingling and watched him drive off. How did this man do this to her? It was just a kiss, and a pretty damn chaste one at that. But now she’d be thinking about him the whole damn flight home.

Chapter Nineteen

Ryan couldn’t keep his eyes off the damn clock—or his watch, his phone, the clock on the stove or the microwave. Take your pick, didn’t matter which one. Maiya would be landing soon. Would she call? Maybe he should call her? Ryan stifled a growl. A little distraction was needed. “Little man, want to go to the park?”

Jacob looked up from his Legos. “Yes!”

Grabbing a couple of water bottles, he walked while Jacob rode his bicycle to the park. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he read the screen.

Maiya:
Hey, I’m home. Don’t have time to call right now. Maybe later.

Ryan:
Okay, thanks for letting me know.

Disappointment settled over him like a storm cloud. He probably wouldn’t hear from her tonight. Maybe he’d try and call her tomorrow though. Ryan sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. No. He wouldn’t call her. Boyfriends did those things, and he wasn’t her boyfriend. He had no intention of being her boyfriend, either. A lump rose in his throat and Ryan swallowed it down. Why did the idea of not being her boyfriend upset him? Unless… Did he
want
Maiya to be his girlfriend?

He shook his head, helped Jacob park his bike and took a seat on a nearby bench. His son ran off toward a couple kids playing on the enormous wooden structure made to look like a castle in the middle of the playground.

The sun shined bright, warming his face while he watched his son play and tried to unravel the elastic ball of thoughts bouncing around his brain. After about an hour on the Maiya merry-go-round, his phone rang. He swiped the screen. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“I’m making a pot roast. Care to come for dinner?”

He glanced over at Jacob. “That sounds great. Time?”

“Six-ish should work. Your brother is here.”

“Which one?”

“Your favorite one.”

“No shit? When did Jimmy get into town? The bastard didn’t even call me.”

“Language, please.” She sighed. “Last night sometime. I woke up and he was in the kitchen.”

“Sorry, Mom.” He cringed, amazed at how she managed to still make him feel ten. “Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself, and my sweet grandson, of course.”

“That can be arranged.” He scanned the play area, finding Jacob again. “See you in a couple hours.”

Cool, Jimmy was in town. Why hadn’t the ass let him know? Damn, he’d missed his brother. Maybe he’d come stay at Ryan’s place instead of their parents’. Jimmy was fourteen months older than Ryan. Damn near Irish twins and flanked on either side by their two sisters, Cyn and Angie.

When they were kids, they’d fought incessantly, but as teens they were inseparable even though they were total opposites in all things, including women. Ryan played sports in high school. Jimmy was in drama and art classes. They rarely hung out during school hours and didn’t share the same group of friends. But they always ended up together by the end of the night. Plain and simple, they were best friends.

Now, Jimmy lived in New York City and was a big, hotshot artist. Saying Ryan was proud of his brother was an understatement. Jimmy had had several showings of his work and sold a lot of it.

Ryan called over to Jacob and let him know they were leaving in five minutes. Jacob waved and ran back up the maze to the slide. Ryan leaned back and crossed his arms, watching his son while he swooped down the plastic yellow spiral for maybe the twentieth time since they’d gotten there.

Maiya tugged her suitcase behind her on the way to the long term parking garage. Mötley Crüe’s “Girls Girls Girls” spilled from her phone in her bag, the ringtone telling her exactly who it was. “Home sweet home.” Stopping, she grabbed the phone and swiped the screen. “Hello, Heather.”

“Hey! You busy?”

“Who me? No. Why would I be busy?” Maiya rolled her eyes. The sarcasm in her tone was totally lost on Heather.

“Good. I need a ride.”

Wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder, Maiya continued the trek. “Why? Where’s your car?”

“It got towed.”

“Jesus, again, Heather?” Maiya stopped and repositioned the phone. Her damn neck was starting to cramp.

“Don’t lecture me. It wasn’t my fault.”

Maiya sighed. “Yeah, yeah. It’s never your fault.”

“Emmmmmm, pleeeease?”

Maiya cringed at the sing-songy whine smothering Heather’s words. “Ugh. I’m leaving the airport now. It’s going to be a little while before I can get you. I have to stop home first and then hit the grocery for Mom. You’re going to have to wait until I do that.”

“I thought you said you weren’t busy.”

“Just that whole flying home from a business trip thing, right? Plus, my mother. I mean, what could be busy about that?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll grab you,
and then
drop you off on the way to Mom’s. Be ready, please, because I’m leaving you if you’re not.”

“Thanks! I owe ya, Em.”

“I’ll add it to your tab. See you in a bit.” She hung up before her friend commented further.

Heather Walsh was Maiya’s oldest friend, and allergic to anything relating to responsibility. Growing up, they lived in the same trailer park, went to the same schools and got into trouble together. Lots of trouble. But while Maiya worked her way through college, Heather partied her way right out the door.

Arriving home, Maiya ran upstairs and dropped her bags. After changing her clothes, she pulled a brush through her hair and then made her way back out the door. It was a little past two thirty by the time she pulled up to Heather’s apartment complex in her black Infiniti.

Retrieving her cell from her purse, she sent Heather a text letting her know she was there. And waited. And waited. And wai—impatience won out and she dialed Heather’s number, listening while it rang and rang and then hit voicemail.

“Dammit, Heather! I am so kicking your ass if you flaked.” Maiya hit End and rested her forehead on her steering wheel, her left eye twitching. This additional agitation wasn’t on the to-do list, not when she still had to deal with her mother today.

She glanced up through her windshield at the cement stairs leading to Heather’s apartment. Maiya didn’t feel much like hiking up the three flights and banging on the door. Though she’d burn off a little restless energy and calories climbing them.
Screw this.
She dialed Heather’s number again and was greeted with a sleepy, “Hello.”

“Get your ass down here. I told you to be ready or I was leaving you.”

A yawn. Then a cough. “Em?”

“No. It’s your Great Aunt Sally. Of course it’s Em! Light a fire under it.” Maiya disconnected the call, got out of the car and lit a cigarette. It’d be at least seven minutes before her friend dragged her butt downstairs.

True to her prediction, seven minutes later, Heather puttered down the steps. Her petite frame wrapped in a pair of faded and torn blue jeans, a white tank and no bra. Maiya rolled her eyes and got back behind the wheel. When Heather was in and buckled up, she pulled away.

“You love me.” Heather pulled down the visor, applied her lipstick and then ran her fingers through her dark brown hair.

“You’re lucky I do. Where’s the car this time? And please tell me you have money to spring it from the tow yard.”

“Actually, yes I do. I didn’t pay rent yet, so…all good.” Heather shrugged with an added grin and closed the visor.

“Then how will you pay rent? Heather, I swear to Christ, you really need to get your shit together.”

“Don’t lecture, Em.” Heather looked down at her hands. “Dunno, I’ll figure it out.”

“Chica, you always say that, but one of these days you
really
do need to figure it out.” Maiya reached over and squeezed her friend’s arm. She loved Heather, but the girl hadn’t ever grown up. She was still hitting the bars, weekend or weeknight, didn’t matter. And getting into any number of risky situations with crazy guys. Or not paying her rent. Or having her car towed. The list was never ending. They just weren’t the same people anymore.

Correction: Maiya wasn’t the same person anymore.

Heather was still the same, and failed to notice Maiya had changed. She still considered Maiya her best friend and bore no shame calling her to bail her out of the various dramas she landed herself in. Maiya put up with it because that’s what a person did for their oldest friend, but she was getting real sick of it. Heather represented everything about the past Maiya wanted to forget yet couldn’t manage to escape.

When they got to the tow yard, Heather gave her a peck on the cheek and got out. “I’ll call you later. Love ya, Em.”

“Love you too.” At least Heather hadn’t asked for money. This time.

As luck would have it, the tow yard was right around the corner from where her mother lived. Maiya pulled up in front of her childhood home and parked. She paused, taking in the rusted aluminum sides of the singlewide trailer. She hated going there, but she did it, every weekend, and sometimes a few days during the week.

Her mother was getting sicker, though the woman wouldn’t admit it. She still smoked close to two packs of cigarettes a day and drank like a damn fish. With no quitting in sight. The doctor wanted Joanie on an oxygen tank for her emphysema—no deal there, either. They didn’t discuss the drinking with her doctor, but he knew of her habit. Maiya made sure he did. It was only a matter of time before her mother got too sick and needed to be hospitalized.

For now, the woman planted her ass in her thirty-year-old orange-striped recliner inside her forty-year-old singlewide trailer and swallowed her booze and inhaled nicotine. It wasn’t pretty, but it was reality.

Taking in a deep breath to steel her anxiety, she got out of the car and then hefted the four bags of groceries from the trunk toward the trailer. As per usual, the door was unlocked and Maiya glanced over at the recliner nestled in the corner and made her way from the small living room to the kitchen. Her mother was stretched out in the chair, napping, with the TV tuned to some soap opera. Her age-imprinted face at ease, and her dark hair tied in a loose braid, with plenty of gray threading through it, lay over her shoulder.

Maiya bit her bottom lip, swallowing past the knot in her throat, and emptied one of the grocery bags. She’d never get used to this. Hated having to do it. “That’s what good daughters do, even when their mothers don’t appreciate it.” A friend she’d had in Los Angeles drilled the statement into her mind a few years ago. The girl had been a member of a twelve-step recovery group for families and tried to convince Maiya to go with her. Some of the things she told Maiya had stuck, but Maiya didn’t need that stuff. She was doing fine all on her own—at least as far as she was concerned.

Careful to keep her steps light, Maiya made her way to her mother’s bedroom. After making the bed, she stopped by the bathroom, deposited a new supply of shampoo and toothpaste, and then did a quick clean up of the sink. She needed to hire a maid, but her mother wasn’t agreeable to having strangers in the house. Funny, having strangers in the house when Maiya was a kid was commonplace.

In a constant battle to air the metal box out, she opened windows along the way. The trailer smelled of stale cigarette smoke, booze and mildew. The place still had the same mustard-yellow shag carpeting and brown plaid furniture Maiya had grown up with. Her and Jeremy’s old bedroom was now a dumping ground for out-of-date newspapers and old magazines. All the white vinyl wallboards were yellowed by the years of cigarette smoke. It was gross and made Maiya’s skin crawl.

Maiya might smoke, but never in her house or car. And nowhere near the amount her mother did. The smell lingered, attaching itself to everything. Maiya hated that, but her mother was perfectly content with all of it.

Back in the kitchen, she leaned over the sink and cranked the window open. When she turned, her mother was behind her. Maiya jumped, pressing her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart.

“Why do you do that? You’re gonna make it all dusty in here, Emmie.” Empty glass in hand, she stepped past Maiya, retrieved a handful of ice from the freezer and then poured herself a fresh gin and tonic.

Maiya winced at the use of the childhood nickname her older brother Jeremy had given her. She looked over her mother’s weathered and worn features. The years hadn’t been kind, but mostly it was the booze that’d stolen her mother’s beauty. Leaning her hip against the counter, Maiya crossed her arms. “I do it because it reeks in here, Mom.”

“It does not.” Her mother raised the glass to her lips and took a healthy gulp.

Not exactly healthy, in Maiya’s opinion. She looked away, unable to bear the sight.

Setting the drink down, her mother pulled a cigarette from her soft pack, popped it between her lips and lit it. She coughed on the exhale and Maiya winced again. “I didn’t think you were comin’ today.”

“Don’t I always come?”

“I suppose you do.” Her mother sneezed and reached for a tissue.

“Bless you. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat, I guess.” Her mother blew her nose. “I don’t even know what’s in there. Make what you want.” She picked up her glass and shuffled back to the living room.

Maiya stared at the floor and her eyes burned with unshed tears. How the hell had she ended up back here, in this trailer—hell, in the state of Nevada again? She’d escaped her mother’s drinking a long time ago, and the demons haunting her when she lived in this trailer had gone elsewhere. Except now she had to visit regularly, so she hadn’t really escaped after all.

She
had
done it though, hadn’t she? She’d made it out of this hellhole, made it out of Vegas too. Some days, taking the job with her company so long ago, felt like it’d all been a wonderful dream. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was actually in Los Angeles, living in her little apartment and working in the office with everyone else, and what she faced now was merely a nightmare. Any minute now, she’d wake up.

Any minute now.

Wake up, Maiya!
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Opening them, she glanced around the kitchen.
Damn, still here.
Dragging herself away from the rabbit hole of self-pity, Maiya put the rest of the groceries away. Asleep or not, this
was
a nightmare. The kind a person lived day in and day out. The kind a person didn’t wake up from…ever.