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

  Chelsea continued spouting until I hung up on her. She called right back, as if we’d been disconnected accidentally, and I let it go straight to voicemail. I couldn’t remember how to block numbers on my cell, but she suddenly quit calling. No voicemails, no texts. Maybe she got a clue. I saved her to my contacts so I’d know who it was the next time she called and, if she did, I’d figure out how to block her.

  But that stupid girl would find out soon enough that Justin didn’t keep women around for long.

  Unless their relationship was getting serious. Considering Chelsea had gotten my number, probably without Justin’s knowledge, I realized maybe they were closer than I’d allowed myself to believe. It would certainly explain why Justin had been more distant lately.

  All the more reason to be glad Kevin and I had a second date coming up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  At Sarah’s next appointment, when Rebecca wanted to have a one-on-one chat with me, I thought at first maybe she’d figured out the source of Sarah’s problems. But it wasn’t that simple. “Sarah loves you, Randi.” I hadn’t thought hearing something like that would be comforting—but it was, and my eyes actually teared up. Before I could find any words to say, she continued. “Justin.” My ears perked up and my muscles stiffened as I prepared for the worst. “He’s your, uh…boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  Blinking slowly and taking in a soft breath, she said, “But…the two of you are in a relationship?”

  I wanted to say Not anymore or various other noncommittal responses. Instead, I simply replied, “Yes.”

  “I wanted you to know Sarah mentioned him and said she misses him.”

  Holy shit. Sarah actually noticed that Justin hadn’t been coming by? I just nodded, because what could I say? Besides the fact that Justin had been away intentionally for Sarah’s sake at first, he was now away for mine as well. “Sarah’s a great kid, Randi—and she’s acting more and more like she’s ready to talk about her trauma.”

  I hated that word, trauma—but who was I to say what my child experienced and how it affected her? I only hoped it was something we could fix.

  On the drive back to Sarah’s school, I decided to try some conversation. I made an attempt at sounding casual, but my daughter probably couldn’t pick up on my emotions anyway. “I love you, Sarah. I don’t say it often enough, so I wanted to make sure I told you.” When I glanced over at her, she was looking out the passenger side window, so I didn’t even know if she was listening to me. “Rebecca said you miss Justin. Is that right?” As I pulled up to a stop sign, I looked over and saw Sarah nodding slowly. While she didn’t say a word or make eye contact, she turned her head toward me—so I ventured ahead with another question. “Would you like it if he came over sometime next week?” Was this an evil ulterior motive? I didn’t know for certain, but when Sarah nodded again, I merely said, “Okay. We’ll see.”

  Having him over, though, would minimize the distance I was trying to give myself. My heart, that open wound, would never heal if I wouldn’t stop gouging it.

  But like an addict, I sought him out that night after class. I justified it in my head because I thought I had multiple issues to discuss with him. As I walked to my van, I saw his truck next to it again, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. So I got in my vehicle and lit a cigarette, turning on the engine so the heater could run and waited.

  A few minutes later, Justin was walking across the parking lot, talking with another man, a guy I thought might have been his instructor. After chatting a little longer, the two men waved to each other and Justin approached our vehicles. Snuffing out my cigarette, I shut off the engine and jumped out.

  “Hey, Rascal. What’s up? I hope you weren’t waiting on me.”

  “I was warming up the van. But, yeah, I was waiting.”

  “Warming up? It’s not that cold out here.”

  “Yes, it is—and I’m not ready for winter yet.”

  With a grin, he tugged at the collar of my jacket. “Well, then, you should wear something a little warmer.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So what’s goin’ on?”

  “Well…I wanted to tell you about a phone call I got yesterday.”

  “Yeah?”

  I couldn’t even bring myself to say the woman’s name. “Your girlfriend called.”

  “Girl? Chelsea?”

  “Yeah. She was pretty snotty. She told me I couldn’t talk to you or see you anymore.”

  Justin laughed. “You gotta be kidding.”

  “I wish I were. She’s freaking psychotic.”

  “Damn straight. She doesn’t know me too well if she thinks she can threaten my friend like that.”

  “But it got me to thinking,” I said, playing a card that could backfire—but I was going to do it anyway. “I don’t want to ruin your relationships just because I like hanging out with you. It’s selfish of me. I can get out of the picture for a while if you need me to.”

  “Are you kidding? No woman is going to stop me from seeing you, Rascal. We’ve got too much history together.”

  Goddamn, that was true. With everything from pulling an all-nighter to help him pound out a final essay to being by his side at his father’s funeral in Kansas earlier in the year, we’d been through a lot together.

  Huh.

  “So,” he said, “consider it taken care of.”

  “I don’t want to ruin—”

  “Not another word, Rascal. Okay?”

  Giving him a quick nod, I lit another cigarette. “Anyway, I also thought you’d find it interesting that the psychologist told me today that Sarah misses you.”

  “Misses me? No shit.”

  “No shit. So I guess you don’t have to stay away anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. So the door’s open, my friend.”

  “Then I’ll have to make a point of stopping by.”

  “She’d like that.”

  “But you wouldn’t.”

  He could see right through me. “I didn’t say that, you pain in the ass.”

  “Rascal. Get on home.”

  “Later.” When I started the van and waved, I realized I felt better at that moment about my friendship with Justin than I had in ages. We had too much history to just piss it away, and I was relieved that sentiment had come from him, not me.

  * * *

  That said, I hadn’t expected to see Justin the very next evening.

  My date night.

  The entire evening had been a comedy of errors—or fate, depending on how you look at it. First, I had to work later than scheduled and then Kevin showed up a little early. Not a big deal, because the spaghetti sauce (homemade, mind you) was cooking, but I’d wanted to jump in the shower. Sarah and Devon were intrigued and curious about this new man in my life—Sarah especially, since she already knew him from school.

  But in he came, early or not, arms full not just with a salad and bread but also wine and sodas. After the introductions, we all made our way into the kitchen. Devon asked, “Mom, can I have a soda now? Mr. Campbell said I could.”

  As I mopped perspiration off my brow, I said, “Fine.” While I wouldn’t be able to take a shower now, I could still be a little more presentable. “I’m so sorry, Kevin, but would you excuse me for a minute? I need to change clothes.”

  “Sure.” Glancing at my son, he added, “That’ll give Devon and me a chance to get to know each other.” My son’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” I scanned the house as I made my way toward my bedroom and felt grateful that the house wasn’t too sloppy aside from a few of Devon’s toys he’d left on the living room floor. My house had definitely seen worse days.

  I pulled clothes out of drawers and was getting ready to change when Devon yelled through my door. “Mom, some man is calling for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On your phone.”

  I popped the door open to find
my youngster holding my cell phone and the screen told me he’d answered it, but it wasn’t someone I already knew. I was tempted to hang up, but since Devon had already talked to the person on the other end, I felt obliged.

  Please don’t be a telemarketer.

  The voice didn’t sound like a salesman. “Is this Randi?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?” I asked as I pulled up the leg of my jeans.

  “Josh Dunham. Do you remember me?”

  Should I? The name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. “Would you mind refreshing my memory?”

  “You know—from the bar. A few weeks ago.”

  Oh, shit. Yes, I remembered. I sat on the edge of the bed. “How’d you get my number?”

  “You don’t remember giving it to me?”

  “No.” I decided there was no harm in being honest. “I was pretty wasted that night.” Not to mention falling in love with someone else. This kid had been a distraction, nothing more—but apparently I’d made him feel differently.

  “I was calling because…I can’t stop thinking about you. I’d like to take you out sometime.”

  Now I felt like a total asshole—but it would be better to rip the bandage off quickly. “Josh, I’m flattered—but I’m a lot older than you.” Almost a cougar.

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “And I have two kids who demand a lot of my attention.”

  After a pause, he added, “I like kids.” In theory, no doubt.

  This guy was gonna make me pull out the big guns. Aside from saying I flat-out wasn’t interested, I had one other card to play. “And I’m seeing someone.”

  “That guy you were with?”

  Rather than banter, I cut to the chase. “I’m really sorry that I gave you the impression—”

  “Just do me a favor, okay? Save my number in your contacts—and call me if you change your mind. That’s all I ask.”

  “I want you to know, if I were five years younger, I would be making plans with you right this second. Unfortunately, the timing’s not right.” I didn’t want to crush his ego and, while it inflated mine that someone lots younger had found me appealing, my heart belonged to someone else.

  And, no, it wasn’t the guy in my kitchen.

  “Cool. Well, you have my number. Call me if the guy you’re seeing doesn’t work out.”

  Strange. After I finished dressing, I ran to the kitchen so I could get the pasta cooking. Fortunately, the water was boiling rapidly, and I was able to drop the spaghetti in.

  “Everything all right?” Kevin asked.

  “Yeah. Just a weird phone call. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  His offer was so thoughtful, I couldn’t say no. So, while I put the finishing touches on dinner, he set the table—with Devon’s help—and then the four of us enjoyed a wonderful meal. We even did the dishes together before cleaning off the table to play a board game and, while Sarah didn’t seem cheerful about it, she participated—which was far more than she’d done in a long while. Maybe Kevin’s presence brought that out in her.

  But the oddness of the evening wasn’t over yet. Halfway through the game, the doorbell rang. Devon knocked Kevin’s piece back to his home base, and my son was giggling in the infectious way he often did as I got up and went to the front door, turning on the porch light before opening it.

  “Hey, Rascal. I was in the neighborhood...”

  What the hell was Justin doing here?

  And then it dawned on me—I’d just told him last night to come by anytime.

  “Um…”

  Sarah, from the kitchen, asked, “Is that Justin?” Then my daughter ran into the living room—actually smiling—and pulled the door open more. She all but tackled him, and Justin squatted to hug her back. Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you.”

  Devon, hearing all the commotion, wasn’t about to be left out and was running toward us. Justin said, “I missed you, too, Princess.” When he spied Devon, he cocked his hand to look like a pistol. “Missed you, too, little rug rat.”

  “I am not a rug rat.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” When Justin stood, he tousled Devon’s shiny brown hair just as Kevin joined our little reunion. Jesus Christ. Could this have felt more awkward?

  Forcing a smile, I said, “Kevin, this is my best friend, Justin Anderson. Justin, Kevin Campbell.” Kevin stuck out his hand, and Justin shook it. It all seemed so civil. I hadn’t noticed before, but Justin was three or four inches taller than Kevin. Why that thought flew through my mind right then, I didn’t know.

  “Randi’s best friend. In that case, I’m very glad to meet you, Justin.”

  “Likewise. I guess I’d better go. I didn’t realize—”

  “No, Justin. You can’t go. You just got here,” Sarah protested.

  Fuck. If I’d known weeks ago that Sarah had felt this way, I never would have brought up the subject of cooling things off with Justin. But would that have been a good thing? I didn’t know anymore.

  My torment must have been apparent on my face. Fortunately, Kevin took all the pressure off me. “Yeah, why not?”

  That said, Justin could have decided to be a stand-up guy and leave—but he wasn’t going to make it easy on me. We would have a conversation about this later. But, as he nodded and entered the house and we all walked toward the kitchen, his eyes were full of feigned innocence. All an act, one he was very good at.

  Back in the kitchen, the four of us resumed sitting at the places where we had before. Justin pulled up another chair and said, “Hey, how about I sit with Devon here and help him out?”

  “I don’t need help. I’m in second grade, y’know.”

  “Okay. Didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You can help me, Justin,” Sarah said.

  God, how had I not known?

  Moving his chair to the corner of the table so he could sit beside Sarah—which put him between us—he said, “Deal, princess.”

  Kevin asked, “Would you like some wine, Justin?”

  My friend appeared to ponder the matter. “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.”

  I was shooting daggers at him as Kevin stood, walking across the kitchen. “Randi, the wine glasses are over the stove? Is that where I saw you get them?”

  “Yes.” As I glared at Justin again, I noticed that neither Devon nor Sarah were missing my facial expressions, so I decided I needed to keep my displeasure to myself.

  As Kevin returned to the table, Devon asked, “Whose turn is it?”

  I answered, “I think it’s Sarah’s.” My daughter then picked up the dice and rolled.

  Meanwhile, Kevin was trying to be friendly—and I kind of wished he wouldn’t. “So, how long have you two been friends?”

  Justin beat me to it. “Over a year.”

  “How did you meet?”

  And, sure enough, I recognized it—a jealousy vibe. Although Kevin and I had only ever been out once (twice if you counted this evening), Justin was just a friend. But maybe he wasn’t coming across that way…perhaps due to my real feelings for the man. Or maybe it was because Justin was a regular Don Juan and Kevin knew it. Whatever the case, I could sense the testosterone in the air.

  “School. We had a math class together. Actually, we’d met before that, but I don’t think Randi remembers it.”

  It was annoying that he kept speaking over me, and I felt my irritation growing. “We did not.”

  “Yeah, we did. But that’s not important right now.”

  Kevin, perhaps eager to remain part of the conversation, asked, “So what are you going to school for, Justin?”

  “I’ll have my associate’s degree in mechanics by the end of this semester.”

  “Auto mechanic?”

  “Yeah. Good money.”

  “Mom, it’s your turn,” Devon prompted. I’d been far too immersed in the tension of the pissing contest between these two men. At this rate, Kevin was going to
start spouting his credentials.

  “Okay.” I picked up the dice.

  “Roll a three, mom. Roll a three!”

  While I shook the dice, Sarah asked, “Justin, how come you haven’t been visiting as much lately?”

  My breath caught in my throat. If Justin were honest with my daughter, he’d give away that it had to do with her emotional state of late—and I didn’t want her feeling guilty. I hoped Justin would look at me so I could try signaling him with my eyes somehow, but he kept his focus on Sarah as he answered her. “Well, your mom’s been pretty busy lately.”

  I let out a silent breath, dropping the dice on the table—and even though I rolled a four, Devon was happy with it.

  Justin kept talking. “In fact, I would have come by last weekend, but I guess your mom was tied up.”

  I could feel the blood drain from my face. His comment might have passed as mere coincidence had he not looked straight into my eyes and then Kevin’s. Asshole. Just as quickly as I’d turned pale, I could then feel my cheeks growing hot, and I picked up my glass, finishing the wine in it.

  My sweet son, unaware anything was wrong, said, “Mr. Campbell, it’s your turn.”

  “Wow,” Kevin said, “look at the time. I just remembered I’ve got a pretty important meeting tomorrow that I’d completely forgotten about. I really need to get home.”

  Justin smiled, once more playing innocent. “So soon?”

  With a nod, he stood. “Yes.”

  I wasn’t about to grill him about a supposed Saturday meeting and actually felt a little relieved—but I also felt like a total jerk and wanted to try to smooth things over. “Sorry you have to go, Kevin. You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

  Devon protested. “But we didn’t finish the game.”

  But Kevin had already moved to the living room where he found his jacket. “I declare you the winner, Devon. You’re quite a skillful game player.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sarah even got up, moving to the doorway of the kitchen. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Thanks for having me.”