Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Read online

Honestly, I needed all the help I could get, especially not knowing how long it would take the psychologist to get to the bottom of things. “That sounds great—but I can’t today. I have to be at work in a little bit.”

  “When are you free? I mean, we can definitely talk about it here, too, but we wouldn’t have interruptions somewhere else, no kids poking their heads in, you know, that kind of thing. More privacy.”

  “Of course. Uh…so far, Wednesday morning’s good.”

  So we planned to meet and have coffee but I left his office feeling a little strange. Why had it almost felt like he was asking me out on a date?

  Surely, it was my imagination. Maybe it was because I was kicking Justin to the curb and, perhaps, my mother had been right the time she’d said I was the kind of woman who didn’t know how to live without a man.

  Was that true? Was I looking at Sarah’s counselor as a potential match? The guy wasn’t bad looking. In fact, the opposite was true, with his short brown hair, facial hair trimmed into a neat goatee and mustache, almost as tall as Justin.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? This man was only concerned about Sarah and wanted to help.

  As I drove to work, though, I began dwelling on the man I really wanted and then wondered what kind of influence a guy like Kevin might have on my kids.

  Maybe I was just a stupid fucking needy woman.

  * * *

  That evening at home, I had Sarah in the kitchen while I made dinner—even though she just wanted to hide in her bedroom. “How was your first day back at school?

  “Fine.”

  Oh, God. It was all I could do not to lose my shit with the one-word answers that didn’t actually mean anything—but losing my shit wouldn’t help Sarah, not one bit. “What happened today? How did the kids treat you?” Finally, I sat at the table so I could give her my undivided attention.

  At first, she screwed her mouth up, but I could tell she was going to give me a real answer this time. “Some bitches were teasing me a little.” Before I could get after her, she said, “Sorry, mom, but that’s what they are. That’s the nicest word I can think of to describe them. And some other kids said it was cool that I started the fire.”

  “You know it’s not cool.”

  “Yeah, I know. By the end of the day, no one else said anything.”

  “You don’t think anyone’s going to hold it against you?” After all, my kid wasn’t fitting in at middle school. The last thing she needed was for this incident to become an albatross.

  “No. Most of them thought it was cool. And they were jealous ‘cause I got the week off.”

  “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

  “No.” Of course not. “But I have a bunch of homework now.”

  “Do you need any help with it? Or do you need me to call the school and ask for more time?”

  “No, my teachers said I have till Friday to get it all done.”

  “All right.” As I returned to dinner preparation, I was relieved that, at least, my child and I had had a conversation that wasn’t as one-sided as usual…and, perhaps, she was going to be okay at school. That felt like a burden lifting off my shoulders.

  * * *

  Tuesday was a clusterfuck of a day. And that clusterfuckery started at work.

  I had a worker to supervise whose shift started that afternoon, a middle-aged brunette named Rochelle who loved to talk.

  Way too fucking much.

  While we both were available to check out customers, I put her to work putting clearance stickers on some items at the counter while I filled out paperwork nearby.

  Rochelle, forever the conversationalist, asked, “How’s Sarah doing?”

  “Hmm? Oh, um, she’s okay.”

  “Noreen told me what’s going on.”

  Oh, fuck. How had I forgotten that Rochelle was friends with my neighbor/ babysitter? At first, I’d thought maybe she knew about Sarah because of what I’d had to divulge at work, but this was worse. Still, I managed to keep my voice steady and calm. “What did she tell you exactly?”

  “Just that she’s going to a shrink.”

  Instead of looking up at Rochelle, I kept my eyes glued on the report I was working on, trying to sound casual. “She’s just having a few problems. The school counselor thought therapy would help her deal with them.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  The sarcastic part of me wanted to ask if she had a degree in psychology—but then I realized she could actually help in her own way. “I may need to trade shifts at some point in the future. Thanks.”

  And I spent the rest of my afternoon trying to decide if questioning Noreen would even be worth it—or if maybe I should keep my mouth clamped shut around the woman from this point forward.

  At the time, I didn’t know Rochelle wasn’t done with me yet.

  As I was wrapping up everything later in the day, getting ready to leave now that Kathy was on the clock, Rochelle said, “So, you’ve got a cute man in your life, too, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Noreen said there’s a guy you’ve been dating…and that you didn’t come home until after noon Sunday.”

  Jesus Christ. Noreen was even worse than I’d thought. “Did she mention that Justin and I are just friends?”

  “She said he’s over at your place a lot.”

  “We’re friends.”

  Finally, she sensed my anger. “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool.” But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Fine if they wanted to gossip about my sex life, but my kid was another matter—and I didn’t know how to handle my neighbor now. Needless to say, I was furious when I picked the kids up at school and, when I had to drop Devon off at Noreen’s house before taking Sarah to therapy, I managed to be civil, but it was difficult.

  Fortunately, Sarah’s therapy session was calm, but I wondered how any of this would help—reminding myself that Dr. Hopkins had said she would be spending the first few visits gaining Sarah’s trust before digging for information. Fortunately, I was able to schedule regular appointments for my daughter. Although they would be earlier in the day—during school hours—I took them, because I needed to be able to rely on a schedule.

  It was the only way I could survive my shitstorm of a life.

  Following that damned schedule, Sarah and I rushed home so I could get to class. This time I avoided a lecture from my prof and did okay on the exam, even though my brain was scattered. Later, as I was heading back to the van after classes, I heard Justin’s voice behind me. “Hey, Rascal.”

  I turned my head but kept walking—and he sped up to catch up with me. “Hey.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We had another one of Sarah’s appointments today. I don’t know what to think right now.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Well, other than getting us banned from church for life, she seems to be okay.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “My parents took her to church Sunday and she exploded, saying something about there not being a God and even dropping an F-bomb.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah.” My voice sounded like the wind had been knocked out of my lungs. “I just wish I knew what was making her like this.”

  “If this shrink’s as good as you think she is, she’ll find out.”

  “Yeah.” When we reached my van, I simply said, “See ya later.”

  “Wait.” Justin fished into the left pocket of his jeans. The lamp above my van was flickering, making this part of the parking lot look almost like a strobe light in a club, so I couldn’t tell what he was getting ready to hand me. “You left these at my place.”

  I opened my hand so he could drop a pair of earrings into my palm. I’d worn these pretty things on Saturday and had put them on his nightstand before trying to sleep—but I’d forgotten all about them when I’d gathered my shit on Sunday. “Thanks,” I said, opening the front pouch on my backpack to temporarily store them.


  “Got in big trouble for those.”

  “Trouble? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “They were on the floor between the bed and nightstand.”

  “Okay…” I was being slow. I should have known—but my mind was too fucking cluttered.

  “I didn’t find them.”

  “Oh.” It was a “girlfriend” who’d found them—and that was just what I needed to hear. Two days ago, I’d been trying to deny the deeper feelings I had for this man—but, of course, he was the same as he’d always been. As usual, he’d been fucking some other bimbo in his bed, making a mockery of what we’d experienced together.

  Maybe what shocked me the most? He hadn’t wasted any time—and I felt little pleasure knowing Justin probably hadn’t bothered changing his sheets for a different woman. “Sorry.” Unlocking the van, I tossed in my backpack. “I guess.” But I really wasn’t sorry, not at all.

  Completely not reading my emotions at all, Justin laughed his ass off. “I think it was worth it.” Then, as he leaned over to kiss me, I buried my head in his chest instead. He was getting a hug from me, nothing more. After him announcing shit like this, I couldn’t even pretend he felt the same way about me—which meant I had to close myself off. There would be no more kissing this man, no curling up next to him. If we were friends only, then he would get nothing more from me than any other companion.

  Besides, we’d talked about not seeing each other for a while.

  Strangely enough, he held me close for the longest time. “Can I help with anything?”

  “I don’t think so. Thanks for asking, but I think we just need to stick with the plan.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” As I wriggled out of his embrace, he asked, “Is it okay if I call just to check in with you?”

  “Probably. I don’t know. Maybe not. If you call, maybe do it at work. Or text—but that might not be good, either, in case Sarah looks at my phone. Calling me at work might be better. That way, if what’s going on with her has something to do with you, she won’t know we’re in contact.”

  Fortunately, he agreed to my terms.

  Then I turned to the van again. “I gotta go.”

  “Yeah. Have a good night.” Once again, he got close, leaning in—maybe trying to kiss me again. I wasn’t sure—but I was proud of myself for being strong, not giving into the sexual attraction I felt for him or that other feeling that had been building of late.

  As I drove off, though, I was angry. Was it at him—or myself? And hadn’t I myself initially loved the idea of no commitment—fun without a complicated relationship? Why now did I despise the idea? And how the fuck did I, at this point, have the audacity to even consider being mad at Justin when he was merely staying within the limits we’d both defined at the outset?

  Unfortunately, no matter how rational I tried to be when I looked at the situation, there was no getting around the hurt that I felt…and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. By the time I picked up my kids, though, I had my poker face on, ready to play stoic mom once again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All night long, I tossed and turned and, in the early hours of the morning, I was finally directing all my anger where it belonged: at myself. This whole shitshow of a relationship wasn’t completely Justin’s fault. From the beginning, I’d put restrictions on our relationship. Over and over, my mind kept returning to the first time we’d hooked up.

  Where it all began.

  “Oh, my God. I finally get it.”

  “You sure? Do you want to go over it again?”

  “No, I get it, Justin. Thanks so much. I think we need to have a beer to celebrate.”

  “Bring it on.”

  As I fished around in the fridge to find the bottles of beer at the back behind everything else, I said, “The whole variable concept in algebra never made sense to me. Now I think I’m going to blame the teachers for doing a shitty job with me.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you just weren’t ready to grasp it.”

  Standing up holding two beers, I closed the refrigerator door and walked back to Justin, handing him one. “I don’t know. I’m just thrilled I get it now.”

  “Least I could do after meat and potatoes like that. Haven’t eaten like that since I was a teenager. Glad I could help.”

  “Well, thanks to you, I think I can finish the rest of these story problems by myself now. Sorry you had to stay so late.”

  “Nobody said I had to. Don’t you think I wanted to?” When he looked at me, his pupils seemed to meld with his brown irises—and I could read that signal loud and clear.

  But what if I was wrong?

  I searched his eyes once more for confirmation, tentatively moving my face closer to his. Back then, I hadn’t known Justin as the confident-slash-cocky man I knew today. I only knew he was attractive—and now he seemed hot.

  And I wanted him.

  But before I could get any closer, moving with hesitation or not, he moved in for the kill, setting his unopen beer bottle on the table and taking my face in his hands, kissing me firmly but sweetly. The way he took control made me feel empowered, and I found myself feeling more confident with him than I’d ever been with any other man. At first, my hands felt weak and shaky but, as he kissed me again with even more passion, I found myself unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes and his smile told me I could do whatever the fuck I wanted—and he was game for it all.

  Once I had his shirt unbuttoned all the way, Justin took his lips off mine for just a moment. With a grin, he said, “My, you’re a little rascal. Rascally Randi.” After that, he called me Rascal more than he said my actual name. I couldn’t help but laugh as I pressed my open mouth into his again, moving from my chair to sit on his lap, still kissing him and running my fingers through his shoulder-length hair, relishing the feel of his stubble prickling my chin and cheeks. God, the powerful way I felt then emboldened me to unzip his jeans and work my way inside until I found his cock. As I did, he sucked on my lower lip before asking, “You sure you wanna do this right now?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Please tell me you have a condom.”

  The way he smiled made my pussy clench with desire, seeing how his mischievous side blossomed with arousal. “You mean you haven’t found one yet?”

  As I giggled again, he slid forward a bit with me still holding onto him while he reached into his back pocket. As he fished his wallet out, I continued kissing his neck impatiently. “How exactly do you want to do this? I think I’m pretty good, woman, but you still got your pants on.”

  Another peal of laughter erupted from my lips as I nodded my head backward. “Bedroom’s that way.” When he stood up, still holding me, he carried me there—and holy shit, the sex we had.

  Twice.

  Unlike ever before, I felt free, unabandoned—and even though our sex was as vanilla as it gets, I could honestly say I’d never had this much fun fucking before. And he seemed to feed off my emotional state, so by the time we lay in bed apart on our backs, spent but aglow, I could hear the smile in his voice even though my eyes were closed.

  “Guess I should help you with your math more often, huh?”

  “Holy shit. That was awesome.”

  Suddenly, he sounded sleepy. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

  “Mmm-hmm. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah? You didn’t seem too rusty to me.”

  “You don’t want to know how long it’s been.”

  When I could feel the motion of the bed as he rolled onto his side, I forced my eyes open and turned toward him. He said, “Tell me anyway. I helped you with your homework. Least you can do is satisfy my curiosity.” Touching the skin just above my collarbone, he added, “Rascal.”

  With little hesitation, I found myself answering his question. “More than three years.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I wish I was.”

  “Why so long?”

  Normally, I wouldn’t have told a soul—especially someone like Justin that I’d
only known for a couple of months. But, for some stupid reason, I felt safe with him.

  I trusted him. There was something about him that made me feel secure—so I found myself opening up. “My ex-husband was…pretty abusive. I was in a really bad relationship, and it was hard to get out. So I swore off men. That was it. I was done. Even if it meant I had to be a nun from now on.”

  “Nuns do what you just did?”

  Playfully, I slapped him on the chest. “Funny guy.” Then I moved my finger down to his bellybutton and back up to his sternum, back and forth, back and forth, tracing its way through the tiny path of hair. I admitted to myself that it was nice lying next to a man again, touching him, feeling him close, his warmth penetrating my skin. “I don’t know why I did that. I guess I should be…ashamed of being so brazen.”

  “I have that effect on women, you know.”

  “I believe it.”

  He laughed. “Seriously, why me?”

  “Why not?”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “I don’t know. You just feel safe to me, Justin. I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  The way he said it caused me to sit up, propping my head on my hand. “Why not?”

  His face got a little serious then. “I’m not a one-woman guy—and I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

  “Oh. Is that all?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could’ve said you were a serial killer or you had a horrible STD you gave me or you were going to start stalking me now.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t think so.”

  “Exactly. You’re a good friend. So why couldn’t I trust you?”

  “Fair enough. But most women don’t like that, and they break it off as soon as they know I play the field. Or they just try harder to be the only one. All it does is push me away. It’s weird.”

  “You know what? That makes you even safer in my eyes. I don’t want any kind of messy relationship. Just sex is good with me.”

  “Just sex, huh? That sounds fuckin’ fantastic in my book, baby. I’m not for any messy relationships, either.”

  “Then you’re perfect.” And, as if to cement the deal, I kissed him.