Return to Poughkeepsie (40 page)

Ryan nodded and winced at the movement. “Okay, later.”

He trudged to the front door of the building and punched in the code. After a trip in the creaky elevator that always smelled vaguely like piss, he stumbled to his door. He needed to swallow some of those pills Eve’s dad had given him and drink about five gallons of water. He opened the door and an entire wall of balloons fell on top of him.

“Trish.”

She’d somehow rigged his front door with tape and balloons so he had an avalanche of the things to deal with. Oddly, they weren’t laced with something evil. He stomped and popped his way through the entryway. He went to the fridge and a frosty twelve-pack of water waited for him. He guzzled two and looked around. Based on the balloon setup, Trish should still be here in his fucking apartment. A huge banner that said
I love you!
was taped to his big-screen TV. There were balloons and flowers and what looked like an entire aisle of a Target store’s Valentine display.

Motion-activated dancing animals damn near gave him a heart attack when they all started singing and playing fake instruments as he headed into the bathroom. His mirror was covered with lipstick kisses and hearts. “Trish? Are you here?”

He turned to the toilet and lifted the lid—a sure sign a woman had been in his place—and got his answer a few seconds too late. His bladder had been completely full thanks to all the damn hydrating, and as his pee hit the plastic-wrap barrier and splashed off and down the sides of the bowl, he cursed.

“Ahhhh, crap.” There was another lipstick message on the inverse of the lid:
Where were you all night???

He immediately checked on Poseidon, who was alive but hungry. And he examined the food carefully before feeding it to the fish. “At least she’s smart enough to leave you alone, buddy. I am so frisking her ass and stealing back my key.”

Upon further examination, he found his apartment to be littered with the remnants of her evening, and she’d once again liberated him of a number of key items. No more towels, no more bedding. Interspersed with the decorations and proclamations of adoration were further signs of her meltdown and disappointment. She’d switched from lipstick to Sharpie at some point, and
Where were you?
was a recurring theme. On his stripped bed he found scraps of lingerie, probably hacked from her body with the kitchen knife lying next to them. She’d written on his bare mattress: I’LL BE WATCHING YOU WHILE YOU’RE FUCKING HER!!!!

“Wow.” He noticed his open bedroom window and saw that the ladder for the fire escape was engaged. He closed the window, noting that the lock was now busted, and went to his bathroom. He stepped over the puddle of his own urine and took a long, hot shower.

As he steamed, his thoughts shifted from Trish to Eve and turned over the ridiculous events of the last twenty-four hours. He had a horrible feeling. If Beckett Taylor had hurt her, there was yet another reason to kill the man.

30

The Saddest Thing

C
HERY
H
EARD
T
HE
N
OW
-F
AMILIAR
B
UZZ
from the nightstand and looked at her phone. Jared had texted her fifteen times since Beckett left town yesterday. One of the store patrons had let it slip that the boss was gone. Word traveled fast in this town.

She hated herself for even looking at the words. But she’d never left him before, and for a time she felt powerful. And yet she missed him. He had a way of making her feel electric. It was so stupid. She knew, in her mind, that he was never going to change. But in her heart? She hoped she could change him. Back in the day, when they first got together, he’d been nice to Vere. He’d whistled at Chery loud and long, always giving her a compliment. Feeling that desired made her seem important, protected. Again, she was a dumbass. So that’s where the guilt came from.

Jared’s first texts had been filled with anger and rage. But now he texted her pictures of flowers and teddy bears. And this very latest text was an apology. She’d never heard those types of words from his mouth. They made her feel strong again, powerful enough to grant him her presence. The house was full of men: one weird guy from Poughkeepsie and two she’d once worked with at the store. Vere was exhausted and sleeping after a day of playing with Gandhi, as always.

She texted Jared back for the first time since she left:

Ur getting sweet on me. Don’t recognize u.

His text back was almost instant:

U should. Sorry. I’ll be better.

She waited, turning on the bedside light.

Look! I miss you so much.
Just talking to you did this to me.

His next text was a picture of his erect penis. She blushed looking at it, and jumped when her phone flashed with an incoming call from him.

She quickly hit the button to ignore it.
What the hell am I thinking? Beckett would be so disappointed.

He texted right after the phone beeped with the voicemail he left.

Don’t b scared. U know I need u.

She got up and closed the bedroom door completely before texting back:

U don’t need me.

I do. U know this time of year is ruff 4 me.

His parents had told him they were getting a divorce in the spring. This time of the year always got him down.

I no.

U know or u no? Be specific. My dick is hard.

She waited a little longer. He texted another picture of his penis.

I know.

I been missing u a lot. Ur so pretty. Miss ur mouth.

U lie.

I won’t lie anymore. I need u. Bought u a present.

She shook her head at her phone. Her hands were shaking and, damn, her heart was beating fast. It felt like she was falling in love with him all over again.

Look!

The next picture was thong underwear. She hated that style.

Ur ass will look so hot in this.

The next text was a video of him getting himself off, whispering her name. She snorted. He was going to every extreme. She saw herself in the mirror and flushed red. Her eyes were wild with the excitement of it, the danger of him. She was supposed to be good. Stay here and take care of Vere. But Vere was sleeping now, and just a few moments with Jared would make her feel different. She held her breath as she texted:

U handle that by urself?

Meet me on the road out back. U can handle it.

Chery bit her lip and put down her phone. Quickly she put on a dress and left off the panties. This made her like a heroine in a romance novel—being sexy, meeting her lover. She brushed out her hair and swished with mouthwash.

Here.

He was right outside. Just a few minutes with him, then she’d leave again to prove she could. Chery slipped out the window of her bedroom in Beckett’s house. She walked carefully out onto the garage. Jared was on the blind side of the house, waiting for her. As she turned and dropped down from the roof, his hands slid up her legs and under her dress. She faced flat against the wall as he ravished her. She’d never felt so sexy in her whole life. His hands were everywhere at once.

“I’m seriously going to come in my jeans. You are so hot.”

She turned and kissed him deeply. He palmed her breasts and pinched her nipples, hard. She gasped.

“You’ll remember who your daddy is by the end of the night.” His breath was laced with whiskey, and his callused fingertips caressed her stomach.

She smiled in his strong arms. “That’s what they all say.”

His eyes flashed with jealousy, and their sliver of meanness gave her a rush. She’d never been so turned on in her entire life. This man did things to her she couldn’t explain. He was toxic, yet she smiled up at him.

He yanked her arm and dragged her back to the car. Halfway there he tossed her over his shoulder and jammed two fingers inside her and his pinkie in her ass.

Chery almost came.

Nighttime settled over the neighborhood as Beckett stopped the car about four blocks from Blake’s house and made the call. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face when his brother answered the phone. “Just wanted an update. Everything still cool?”

“Yeah. House full of sleepers. Me and Cole just opened a beer. You want in?”

He could hear the bottles toasting in the background. Beckett wanted to have a beer with his brothers so bad he could taste it. But he couldn’t risk it. “Yeah, bro, I got to pass. Last thing you guys need is this fucking bastard knocking on your door.”

“Come around to the basement. We’re waiting for you.” Blake hung up, taking the choice out of his hands.

Beckett left the car where it was and jogged through yards until he got to Blake’s back door. Blake was waiting, and he must have told the cops this was authorized, because he pulled open the door and grabbed Beckett’s shoulder without any interference.

Blake already had an extra beer open and pushed it into his hand. With his tattooed arm, he wrapped Beckett in a welcome. Cole joined, and they toasted their drinks above their braided forearms.

“You fuckers. God, I missed you.” Beckett let his common sense fall away and drained the beer in as few gulps as possible.

Soon enough they all put the empties on the floor, and Blake pulled out three more, tossing two in the right direction.

Cole laughed. “This is number three and—” He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “It’s only been an hour.”

“That sounds like a good damn day.” They toasted again, and Beckett clapped his brothers on the back. He knew he hadn’t stopped smiling since he walked in the door. “Motherfuckers.” He shook his head.

Years had passed, and he loved being able to sit with them, instantly at ease—not a beat had been missed. They were the best company. Always would be. In a perfect world, he would talk to both of them every damn day.

Cole hopped up and hit play on Blake’s iPad. A song poured over them, and they sat in stunned silence while it played.

Beckett began clapping as it ended. “Honey, you’ve got talent blooming out of your damn asshole. I love you like a fucker.”

“I feel the same way about you.” Blake laughed and Cole groaned.

Cole leaned forward after taking another pull from his beer. “So what the hell have you been up to?”

Beckett shook his head. “What about you guys? Blake’s cranking out babies like a Mormon. What are you and Fairy Princess doing?”

Cole’s smile turned sober. “Kyle just had a miscarriage. We’ve tried for a long time, and pretty much we just can’t…It’s hard to put in the day right now.”

“Whoa. No shit. I’m so, so sorry. You must be wrecked.” Beckett shook his head. That kind of devastation must be crumpling Kyle. Such a sensitive, caring chick, with a filthy fucking mouth.

Cole shrugged. “Everything’s relative, you know? It’s been a crazy bunch of hours. Eve okay?”

Beckett took a long swallow of his beer before answering. The truth was, he had no fucking clue how she was. After getting back in the car, all full of coffee and sandwiches, he’d kind of lost his mind. He’d had no right to do it, but he’d grilled her about the cop. The way she’d been all over him at the party was one thing, but the way she tended to him at her dad’s was a kick in the pee hole. He could tell she cared about the guy, wanted him safe.

But it made sense. After so much damn time, she was doing exactly what a normal girl should. But when he’d congratulated her on finding a good man, repeating her own words back to her, she shook her head.

The argument that followed was not a proud moment. All these years he’d been training himself not to react with anger, instant and vicious, but his discipline had evaporated. He’d done the right thing by having the asshole protected, but that was about it. The last words he remembered launching at her were, “I asked you to not fuck anyone else! That’s all I asked. It’s too hard to keep your goddamn legs closed?”