Keep It Simple (MMG Series Book 4) (32 page)

I have no idea where Cas is. He won’t return my calls or texts and, believe me, I have left him plenty. I miss him. I miss everything about him, including his stubborn bossiness. I’ve tried to find out where he is, but no one will tell me. All they say is that he doesn’t want to be found. I think they are full of shit.

Sally swallowed a man-sized bite of taco and asked, “What if you find Cas and he tells you he doesn’t want to be with you?”

The thought had crossed my mind on more than one occasion. In fact, I thought about it every single day. “Then he doesn’t want to be with me,” I half shrugged. “That doesn’t stop me from wanting to talk to him. He left before I told him how sorry I was about Kalen. I told him I loved him, but I didn’t get the chance to tell him why.”

“That thing with his kid, who really wasn’t his kid, is all kinds of messed up,” Sally said.

I more than agreed with her. The look of devastation on Cas’s face when Alexandria told him Kalen wasn’t his would be forever burned in my memory. “I just need to know he’s okay, that’s all. If he wants nothing to do with me after we talk, then I will have to learn to live with it,” I told her.

*     *     *

Two weeks later

Cas, where are
you? Are you thinking of me? Do you miss me? I feel like such a silly love struck girl, but how do I turn it off? Have you turned it off? Do you hate me? If not, then why won’t you answer my texts or my calls? I love you. I miss you. Please, just let me know you are okay.

A knock on the door made me cut it short. “Hang on!” I yelled, and hit send. “Come in!”

The door opened and Max peeked in. “Am I interrupting?”

Max and Ellie had plans to see a concert last night. At the last minute their housekeeper, Deloris, got sick and had to cancel, so Max called and asked if I could stay. I had plans to go out with Amanda, who had just returned from Canada, but really didn’t want to go bar hopping with her. I ended up canceling with Amanda and staying with Mac. Max and Ellie didn’t get home until after midnight, so I raided Max’s t-shirt drawer and spent the night in their guest room.

“I’m up,” I told him.

“Thanks for staying so last minute. Nice t-shirt, by the way,” he smirked.

“Hey, that’s what sisters are for,” I joked.

“Speaking of sisters, I have one turning the big two-one next week and have been ordered to find out what she wants to do on the big day?”

Just the thought of my birthday made my skin crawl. “I’m good, Max. I don’t need a big deal made of it, really.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “You’ve always hated your birthday. Why?”

I needed to tell Max about Dad, but the time never seemed right. We never seemed to be alone together.
We are now
.
Should I tell him?
Doubt had plagued me for so long. I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought about what Cas said about it being his baby sister and knew I had to tell Max now, or I never would.

“Remember my tenth birthday when I told you I was throwing up and you busted me eating candy in my room?”

He smiled. “I do. I figured something happened at school with one of your friends or something.”

“Not exactly,” I hesitantly said.

Like a hawk, Max zeroed in on what I wasn’t saying, and said, “What are you not telling me, Sarah.”

Please give me strength,
I prayed. “The night before, Dad got really drunk, I mean falling down stumbling drunk, and he somehow ended up in my bed.”

Max looked as if he’s been struck. “Like as in he thought it was his own bed and accidentally passed out in yours?” he asked. His eyes were glued to mine and I could foresee the torment I was about to cause.

“No, as in knew it was my bed and chose to be there.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered, “Please tell me you are shitting me?” I shook my head, no, and he winced. “Was that the only time?” Again, I shook my head, no.

Rage like I had never seen filled his face and I knew he was about to come unglued. Before it got that far, I blurted, “He couldn’t get it up!”

His body stilled and his eyebrow shot to the ceiling. “What?”

“He tried, but he couldn’t get it up. He never could. Eventually, he would just pass out and I would run and lock myself in the closet. Sometimes, when he caught me off guard, he would cry and mumble about how sorry he was for ruining our lives. I got good at listening out for him and nine times out of ten would get to the closet before he ever made it to my room.”

Pain filled his face. “Where the fuck was I?”

“You were gone or asleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he would hurt you or take you away from me. You were all I had.” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. “Please don’t be mad at me, Max. I was afraid he would take you away from me.”

“So…he never actually touched you?” he hesitantly asked.

“Ummm, not much,” I hedged. The truth was, he had touched me a few times, but it wasn’t until I was older that I even realized what it meant.

Max scrubbed his hands over his face and whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! The motherfucker touched you when you were a child. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this? I could have stopped him! I would have killed him! Hell, Benny would have killed him! At the least we could have gotten you out of there.” His head dropped into his hands in defeat and I crawled across the bed and wrapped my arms around him.

“I’m okay, Max, I swear. He would have done so much more damage had he taken you from me. Please, please understand this,” I sobbed.

He wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.” All I could do was cry. I cried for the years without my mom. I cried for having such a shitty father. I cried for the hell I put Max through, but most of all, I cried because I was finally able to let it all go.

At some point Ellie came in and wrapped her arms around the two of us. When Mac shrieked in anger and started tugging at my feet, I started laughing. Pretty soon all three of us were laughing.

*     *     *

One week later

“Were you surprised?”
Piper asked.

“Not really. Max can’t keep a surprise to save his life,” I laughed.

Max and Ellie decided I needed a party to help erase all past birthdays and to properly usher me into my legal drinking years. I kept telling them that I had been legally drinking since I was eighteen, but they wouldn’t listen.

Joss held up her glass of apple juice. “I miss drinking,” she whined.

We were standing in the kitchen talking girl talk, while the guys watched a football game in the living room.

“You are a week away from your third trimester. Ask your doctor and I bet she lets you have a glass of wine every now and then. Mine did,” Ellie said.

“No drinking, Josselyn!” Kurt shouted from the living room.

“Damn he’s got fucking sonar hearing. I’m not, you Debbie Downer!” Joss shouted back at him.

“Any word from Cas?” Piper asked. I had tried so hard to stop thinking about Cas, but it was impossible. Until I saw for my own eyes he was okay and talked to him, I wouldn’t let go. I just couldn’t.

I held up my beer. “Apparently Cas does not want to be found. At least, he doesn’t want to be found by me,” I said. Right as the words left my lips the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Max shouted. A few seconds later, he appeared with a gift in hand. “Package for you, madam,” he said and handed me a blue and white striped, small square box with a white bow on the top.

The gang watched me tear into it. Inside the box sat a piece of paper. My heart thumped ninety to nothing as I unfolded it. I instantly recognized Bobby’s handwriting.

“What is it?” Max asked.

I looked up and smiled at him. “An address,” I answered.

Cas

‡

I
’m finally ready
to go home.

I stared out at the ocean, as I had done every day for the past six weeks, and thought about Kalen. After Alexandria dropped the bomb about Kalen not being mine, I didn’t know what to feel. In my heart he was my son. To the rest of the world, except for the few who knew the truth, he was my son. In the end, biology had nothing to do with it. From the moment he took his first breath to the second he took his last, Kalen was mine. I loved him.

I left Charlotte so damn angry and drove up to Asheville, where I rented a hotel room and got wasted. When I woke the next day, I began searching for my phone. Maybe Sarah had texted. Also, Sterling was supposed to text the date of Alexandria’s funeral. When I realized I left it on my kitchen counter, I used the hotel phone to call Sterling. I did not, however, call Sarah. She was better off without me. I spent one more night in Asheville nursing my nasty hangover before heading down the mountain and across the state to Wilmington. When I arrived in Wilmington and realized how much had to be done with the funeral and the house, I decided to stay and see it through.

Just as I’d predicted, Alexandria’s funeral was a ridiculous show of wealth and bad taste. Sterling and the press made Alexandria the victim of a robbery gone wrong. No one knows what happened to Curtis, however. Sterling assured me he was being dealt with. I didn’t ask for details and he didn’t offer any.

Staying at the house was bitter sweet. Bitter because Alexandria turned it into a pig sty and sweet because it still held my son’s things. Alexandria went to rehab before she cleaned out his room, which left me to the task. It almost killed me to get rid of it all. Sterling offered to have someone do it for me, but I couldn’t. I needed to say goodbye to my boy in my own way. A truly cathartic moment was when I placed Alexandria’s things in the outside fireplace and set them on fire. All I could think was,
burn bitch. I hope you are rotting in hell.

Two weeks after Alexandria’s funeral Sterling called and asked if I could come by the house. I didn’t want to, but something told me I should. Sterling’s housekeeper, Lorna, answered the door and, instead of taking me to his office, she walked me back to the study. I walked through the ornate French Doors, like I had a hundred times before, and expected to see Sterling kicked back in his leather recliner with a cocktail in hand. To my surprise, I got a sick man lying in a hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment.

“Come in, come in,” he called from the bed. I felt marginally better when I heard his vibrantly strong voice calling out to me. When I got close, he pointed to a chair at his bedside and said, “Sit, we need to talk.” I sat and tried not to focus on the beeping of the machines and the needles poking out of him. Sterling dove right in. “I want you to know I had nothing to do with Alexandria faking the paternity test.”

I thought about how to address the issue and decided to call bullshit. Just because he was dying doesn’t mean he should be absolved of the part he played in this whole shit show. “You’re the reason she did it,” I told him.

“Why? Because I told her she couldn’t have him,” he tsked. “She was better than that and she sure as hell deserved better. Curtis Filpot was the town junkie. He was a nobody raised from a shit existence to be nothing. I wanted better for her.” The regret in his voice was painful to hear, but it didn’t erase what happened.