Love 'Em: A Bad Boy Romance (32 page)

Slade draws back his fist and lays Danny out with one punch
to the jaw.

I gasp. “Oh, gawd. You guys!”

I yank a tissue from the wad of unused ones in my pocket and
shove it into Slade’s hand so he can stem the flow of blood draining down his
face onto his shirt.

Dropping to my knees next to Danny, I push the hair out of his
face. He’s out cold and reeks of tequila or whiskey or some kind of alcohol. His
jaw blooms with the beginnings of a bruise.

My eyes tear as I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

But I can’t cry over Danny.

I won’t.

CH. THIRTEEN

At least Mo was nice enough to call my mom instead of
leaving me to get eaten by mosquitoes or fire ants while I slept off my idiocy.
I steady myself on the wall with one hand, rubbing my jaw with the other as I
head to the top of the stairs.

Mom sits at the kitchen table, her coffee mug in front of
her. A frown mars her face. She looks up as I open the freezer for a bag of
peas.

She opens her mouth. Before she can speak, I hold up a hand.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

Mom rubs the crease between her brows. “Danny, what’s going
on with you and Mo? Your Dad knows something, but he won’t tell me. Now she’s
moved out with a flimsy excuse as to why, and now you’re drinking and passing
out in the yard.”

I’ve been drinking for a long time, but I’m not telling her
that. “She and I have been—seeing each other. She thinks I did—this thing I
didn’t do, and she’s pissed.”

Mom places her hand over mine. “What does she think you
did?”

This is a truckload of bullshit. I let out a deep breath.
“Just something. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about it with you. I
need to discuss it with Dad.”

She straightens and nods. “Yes, that would be good. You two
talk. Your dad’s a smart guy; he’ll know how to help.”

Yeah. Help is probably the last thing he’ll do.

I push away from the table. When I get down the hall, I skip
the knock and walk into Dad’s office.

He frowns and looks back at the papers on his desk. “I don’t
have time for your theatrics this morning.”

Flopping into the chair in front of his desk, I snort. “You
have to fix this shit. Mo found that fucking camera you put in her bathroom and
she thinks I did it.”

Dad leans back, crossing his hands over his stomach. “Well,
that’s too bad, Son.”

Smug motherfucker.

I stand and slam a fist onto his desk, rattling everything.
“No. You
will
make this better. And you’ll do it now. I pulled those
cameras you had at the shelter. Plus, your being a perverted old man shouldn’t
cost me the girl I love.”

The door pushes open and Mom stares in with wide eyes.
“What’s this?”

Dad groans. Mom cocks an eyebrow. And my stomach takes a
nosedive for the floor.

Well, if she’s been standing out there very long, she
already knows anyway. Besides, come Wednesday, it’s all gonna blow up as soon
as I tell Cindy.

I shoot a look at him and cross my arms. “Go ahead,
Dad
.
Walk the walk. The truth shall
set you free
.”

Mom steps into the room. “Tell me.”

He comes around the desk, leading her to the seat I just
vacated. “Charlotte, it’s not as bad as it might seem.”

I shake my head. “The hell it isn’t.”

Mom looks to me, and then to him. “
What
?”

Dad hangs on to one of her hands, throwing me a look.

I lift my chin. “Go ahead.”

He clears his throat. I hide my shaking hands behind my back.
Please, God, don’t let this destroy my mother.

She yanks her hand from his.

Her grip on the chair’s arm whitens her knuckles. “What have
you done, David?”

Dad grits his teeth and hardens his eyes when he glares at
me, as though this is
my
fault.

Fine. I’ll tell her. “He put cameras all over the guest
house and has been recording Mo ever since she moved in. Not only that, but he
also installed them in the ministry’s women’s shelter, in the bathrooms and
sleeping quarters. He’s a fucking pervert.”

Mom’s eyes grow large as her gaze darts from me to him and
back, her hand going to her chest. “What?
No
.”

Dad massages his forehead with his fingertips. “It’s true.
But I can explain. I was just watching over Mona Lisa. And the women at the
shelter, they’re all sinners and need shepherding…”

Her expression crumples. “I can’t believe this.”

Mom covers her face as she runs from the room.

He drops into her abandoned chair. “Are you happy now? You’ve
destroyed your mother.”

“
I
destroyed her? Oh, hell no.
I
didn’t do
this. You did, you filthy bastard.”

The door stands wide open. Somewhere in the house another
slams.

Slade tosses me a pack of crackers and a pillow as my phone
rings for probably the thirtieth time today. “For Pete’s sake, shut your ringer
off.”

Yesterday was worse. I flip the tiny switch to silence the phone.
“Sorry. Look, I appreciate your letting me stay here until I find a place.
You’re an angel.”

He raises his beer in salute. “Yeah. That’s me. Saint Slade.
Just don’t forget to tell Rach how amazing I am.”

His eyes are still bruised. When we got back to his
apartment the other evening, he had to straighten his nose. The crack was
possibly the worst sound I’ve ever heard.

He props his feet up on the scarred up coffee table between
his chair and the sofa. “I haven’t said much about it, but you do know that boy
loves you, right?”

I cover my face. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change what he did.
I still don’t get it. Is that something guys do these days? I mean, would you
hide a camera somewhere like that?”

“Hell, no. But are you sure he did? He said he didn’t.”

I yank my hands away from my face. “And conspiracy theorists
say there was never a man on the moon.”

“Has he lied to you before?”

I sit up straighter. Has he lied? Well—“He once acted like
we’d had sex when we hadn’t. But I knew the truth. Other than that—I guess
not.”

Slade cocks his head and squints. “So, why do you think he’s
lying about this?”

Eye roll. “He said it was his freaking dad. You
do
know
who their dad is, don’t you?”

He lets out a huff. “The illustrious David Jennings? Of
course, I know. Televangelist extraordinaire. Why do you think I worry so much
about asking Rachel out? A dad like that? She’s never going to look twice at
me. I’m a mess.”

“Did you
see
her brother?”

If anyone’s got issues, it’s Danny.

I push the blanket into the floor and grab my phone from
Slade’s coffee table. Two-twenty-six. Oh, well, sleep’s overrated anyway.

I stare at the text Danny sent. One each day. They all say
the same thing.

I love you.

He’s only shown up at Slade’s once, on the morning after I
got here. I barely caught a glimpse of his disheveled hair over Slade’s
shoulder when he answered the door and stepped outside. Their voices were too
muffled to understand.

Slade came in and shut the door with a grimace. “He has important
shit to tell you. You should give him a chance to explain.”

But I can’t.

Even if Danny didn’t put the camera there and even if he
does love me—and I’m not convinced he even knows what real love is…lust? Yes,
but love? There’s no way I can just take up where we left off; I have too much
to figure out.

I can’t let him close to me. If he touches me, I’ll forget
the things I should remember about him. Things like the fact that he doesn’t do
relationships even though he keeps trying to convince me he’s changed.

It’s important that I keep in mind the kind of guy I
need
—not
just the one I want—and I’ve got to decide what I’m going to do about the baby.

I fall back to the pillow, my mind spinning in thirty
directions with all the things I need to get done: A place to live. School. Should
I give notice at the shelter? Then again, Danny’s probably already quit; that’s
one thing that may not have to change.

Stepping from my car into the blazing heat, I check the
paper in my hand before I scan the brass numbers stuck to the gray siding. I
prepare to meet my sister.

I tuck the stuffed bear under my arm and follow the sidewalk
to the correct apartment building. Each step up brings me closer to another child
abandoned by my father. Mr. Wrong for my mom and for this Samantha lady.
Another reason I can’t open my heart to Danny. No matter how bad it’s crushing
me.

I rub my palms on my back pockets and knock. I’ll give them
thirty seconds. If no one answers in thirty sec—

The door opens. My own eyes stare up from under a mop of
platinum curls.

Two dimples deepen as Cassie throws the door open. It
crashes against the wall as she yells, “It’s her. She’s here. She’s here!”

A beautiful, dark-haired woman steps into the small entry,
her brown eyes reflecting the nerves trembling in my fingers. “Hi. You must be
Mona Lisa.”

I take her hand. “Yes. Hello. Please, call me Mo; everyone
does.”

Cassie grabs my arm and drags me inside. “I’ve waited and waited.
I thought you’d never get here. Do you like Barbie? I love her. Want to color with
me? Oh, come see my room. Is the bear for me? I love bears.”

Her enthusiasm brings a smile to my face. I hand her the
white teddy. “Yes, the bear’s for you, and I’d love to see your room.”

* * *

Two hours later, Cassie lounges next to me on the floor twisting
the ring on my pinky finger, her eyes rapt on the television. I take the glass
Samantha offers as she sits across from me.