Love and Lies (Small Town Secrets Book 1), page 21
I’d convinced myself that there were other reasons, but it all boiled down to fear, and I only knew half of what I was truly afraid of.
They were expecting me, so Dad walked out before I’d even gotten to the front door. He didn’t say a word, just hugged me tightly. “Come on in and have some coffee, honey.” Then, patting my back, he started to lead me inside. “Sure is good to have you back home.”
I knew what he meant. It didn’t matter that we’d been apart for longer periods of time when I’d lived in Denver. I knew what he must have been feeling when I left this time—the sense of finality I’d given my journey, because that was how I’d felt.
“Wait a second, dad.” He followed me back to the car, and I opened the hatch.
“Wow, Casey. You could open your own art gallery with all these.”
I grinned, feeling better already just being around my father, one person in my life who had always accepted me for me. No strings, no condemnations. And he understood that I just wanted to show off my work; we didn’t have to haul them in right now. “Come on.” I closed the hatch and walked with him up to the house.
“Casey!” My mom nearly screamed as we walked inside. Sobbing, she pulled me into her arms and held me so tightly, I felt like the prodigal child—no questions asked, no shooing me off, just pure loving emotions and joy to see me. It made me feel even guiltier for having left in the first place. “You’re not leaving again like that, are you?”
I felt a slight smile cross my face. “I don’t think so.”
We sat down at the table after I got a cup of coffee. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
I paused, considering. I’d barely addressed the question to myself, because I’d had the real reason I hadn’t shared—but what about the fringe benefits of being gone? “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” It was the truth. After almost twenty-five years, I knew who Casey was. And even though Casey had a lot of problems and myriad imperfections, I loved her. My time away had made me realize a few things—I no longer wanted to operate from a place of fear and, hard as it would be, I wanted to be truthful about things.
“Casey, forgive me for harping, but I’m your mother. You’re much too thin. I want—”
“I know, mom.” I wasn’t angry, and I understood why my mom was freaking out. I was way too thin. “A doctor told me the very same thing and wanted me to focus on gaining weight. He put me on an eating plan.”
Her eyes almost bulged, and I fought back laughter. “We haven’t eaten breakfast yet. What would you like to eat?”
“Anything.”
“Casey,” dad said, “we won’t be offended if you want to live on your own again. You’re a grown woman and can think for yourself. We’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
“Thanks, dad. I’ll probably have to stay with you guys for a while. Lewis said he was going to put the house up for sale and, much as I liked it, I’m in no position to buy.”
Mom was mixing pancake batter in a bowl. “You know you can stay here as long as you want.”
Nodding, dad got up to pour another cup of coffee. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”
My mind raced, remembering all the weird events that had happened while I’d been gone. Did it have to do with Barry—or Scott?
Mom deferred to dad. “Isabel called and said she hadn’t been able to reach you.” Probably because I’d never called her back. “She’s almost gone through everything you gave her and she wants more.”
“You saw what I have.”
“Exactly. And there’s a check in the—”
“I deposited it yesterday,” mom said, pouring batter into a hot skillet.
“Almost gone. Maybe I really could make a career of it.”
“I keep hearing about this tattoo art show at the Arts Center.”
Oh, yeah.
Why the fuck had I ever left?
* * *
After taking a long nap, unpacking the car, and then cleaning up, I drove to Bob’s Southern BBQ. I hadn’t been there since my last day of work.
Even though my intestines were twisted like a pretzel, I knew it had to be done. When I walked toward the front doors, I glanced around the parking lot. I didn’t see Scott’s black truck anywhere around the place, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. When I walked in the restaurant, Carla spied me from the main dining room and came over to give me a hug. “So good to see you, Casey. I’ll talk with you in a while.”
“I know you’re busy, but do you know who’s cooking today?”
“I think David is. Want me to go get him?”
I grinned. “That would be awesome. Thanks.”
She rushed into the back when someone behind me started talking. “Hi, stranger.”
I turned around. “Hey, Ed. How goes it?”
“Fine. We miss you around here, though.”
“I’ve missed you guys, too.”
“Are things better now, Casey?”
“Much. Thanks.”
“Well, good to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t ask if I wanted my old job back, but I wasn’t going to press the issue right now. In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted it.
David came out to the lobby. “Casey!” He ran over and gave me a big bear hug, swinging me around. After our last encounter, I had expected a cooler reception, so relief washed over me like a waterfall—until he spoke again. “No offense, but you look awful.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’ve been starving to death.”
For fuck’s sake. So I was thin. I was getting tired of hearing it. “Stress. Not eating right.”
“You all right?”
“Better. Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “Scott around?”
David’s eyes shifted, trying to hide…something. He avoided making contact with mine before answering. “At our place maybe?”
“David, what are you not telling me?”
“I think you need to talk to Scott.” He gave me a quick hug and started backing up toward the kitchen. “I’ve got to get back to work. Nice to see you, Casey. I missed you.”
“Yeah, you, too.” Try as I might, the enthusiasm was gone from my voice. I wasn’t looking forward to finding out whatever it was David was hiding.
I drove by their house, but Scott wasn’t home. I considered texting him but I needed to see his face. What was going on?
* * *
When I awoke the next morning, I still wasn’t sure what I should do about Scott. I joined mom and dad for coffee at the kitchen table, trying to act lighthearted.
“Does she buy the surreal stuff just because it’s surreal?” my dad asked.
The phone rang. Mom had the handset next to her on the table and answered it while I said, “I’d like to think so—and that’s why I’ve really been pushing the envelope.”
“That’s my Casey.”
Mom wore a heavy look of apology as she held out the phone. “Casey, it’s for you.”
In spite of her facial expression that should have been my clue, I didn’t ask. I practically lunged for the handset. “Hello?”
“So you’re finally back, huh?”
My heart sank to the floor. This was not the voice I’d been hoping to hear. “Barry, you do realize we’re not married anymore.”
“Casey, do you realize that not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you?”
“Oh, come on. That’s bullshit and you know it.” My parents were staring, so I stood up from the table and walked toward the back door, stepping outside. They didn’t need to hear whatever this conversation would turn out to be.
“Why did you run again, Casey? You were gone what? A month? I know you better than you think I do. What were you thinking? What were you doing? Your parents were worried sick.” I didn’t say a word, and the silence loomed heavily. I felt trapped again, just like I had a year ago, under the thumb of this domineering man who wielded control like it was his God-given right—and he was good at it, thanks to his powers of manipulation. I marveled even now at how I’d found the strength to get out. “Have it your way. Somehow you think being silent exonerates you.” Why had I frozen? Too many times that had been my response to him until, at last, I’d snap. “You still whoring around with that guy there?”
And that was enough to do it. “Barry, I want you to stop calling me. Stop calling my parents. Stop calling my cell phone. Stop obsessing over my life. We’re divorced. You signed the papers fair and square.” My hands started shaking and I felt the old fear like a long-lost friend gripping my bones—but I had to do this. “And if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll slap you with a restraining order so fast, you’ll wonder what fucking hit you.”
“Casey, you—”
“I mean it, Barry. Stop. Calling.” And, with fluttering hands, I hung up the phone. Then I took a deep breath of air already warmed by the late August sun and closed my eyes, willfully forcing the image of my ex out of my head. He wasn’t allowed in that space anymore, and so I had to make sure he got out.
In spite of my strength, tears were sliding down my cheeks. With another deep breath, I swiped them away and made myself smile. Barry was out of my life and he couldn’t harm me. I now had the upper hand, and why he continued to call as if each incident were a death throe, I didn’t know.
When I returned to the table, dad asked, “Is everything all right?”
I nodded. “Peachy.” And then I forced down a piece of toast, focusing my brain on my mission.
I had to find Scott today. Good or bad, I had to know what the hell was going on.
Chapter Twenty-six
As much as I’d promised the ER doc in Grand Junction that I’d be better about eating, the fact was I’d gotten worse. My nerves had been shot since returning to Winchester and, between Barry and Scott, I could barely force any food down. So when I tried to make sure I looked okay for my first encounter with Scott since I returned, I doubted anything I did helped. My loose clothing probably highlighted the weight loss instead of hiding it. Fortunately, the makeup almost covered the dark circles under my eyes while putting a little color on my pale face.
But I knew Scott could see right through me. Or could he?
When I drove by his house, I saw David’s car there, but Scott’s truck was gone. I considered stopping but decided not to. Even though David had hugged me the day before, I knew he was still mad at me for leaving in the first place.
So I drove by Bob’s, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw his black truck near the back of the parking lot. Anxiety quickly followed the relief as acid began boiling in my gut. No wonder I found it hard to swallow food. Sitting in my car, I took a few deep breaths as if to steel my nerves. Finally, though, I just needed to get my ass out of my car and do it.
When I walked in, I saw Ed sitting in the office, so I popped my head in. “Long time, no see, Casey.”
“Hey, Ed. I wondered if I could talk to Scott before you guys get busy.”
He frowned as he stood. “I thought maybe you were going to ask for your job back.”
Pursing my lips, I tried to assess if he would actually give it to me or relish telling me to fuck off. As much as I got the vibes that people here genuinely liked me, I also sensed that they also resented that I’d left and how I had.
I supposed I couldn’t blame them.
As Ed headed toward the kitchen, I said, “Please let him know I’ll be waiting in the parking lot.”
Leaning against my car, I tried to relish the feel of the warm sun on my skin and the fresh air traveling through my nostrils to my lungs, but I was too damn keyed up. At least out here I wouldn’t have to share whatever was going on with Scott with everyone else at the restaurant.
I found myself gritting my teeth. If I’d still been smoking, I would have been sucking a cigarette down hard by now. I realized I might need to consider chewing gum, something to keep my mouth busy and my nerves calmer. As it was, I started pacing, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety building in my bones.
Holy fuck. Not knowing was the hardest part. A few minutes passed and I started thinking maybe he wasn’t coming.
But then he did, and he looked like a group of palm trees I might spy across a vast desert. He looked just as handsome as the first time I’d seen him. But, as he got closer, the air around him felt like the first time I’d seen him, too—closed off, private, quiet. I wanted nothing more than to run to him and collapse in his arms, tell him I loved him, apologize for leaving in the first place, but I was afraid. I knew everything was different now—the sensation was palpable. The problem was, after talking to David, I was afraid it was a lot different.
“Hi, Casey. Good to see you.” He hugged me and, at first, I felt a little relief until I realized the hug was sterile, platonic…cold. But what the hell had I expected? This wasn’t his doing. I’d put several weeks and hundreds of miles between us. Maybe we couldn’t just pick up like nothing had happened.
He didn’t hold me for long. “Scott…it’s really good to see you, too. I need to talk to you, but I don’t think this is the right time or place.”
“How about tomorrow sometime?”
I wanted to ask why tomorrow and not after work today—but I was afraid to hear the answer, so I just nodded.
“Casey, how much weight have you lost?”
“I don’t know—but the doctor put me on a diet.”
“Then he’s a fucking quack. You’ve lost way too much.”
“No, no…he put me on a diet to gain weight.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. I was feeling way too out of control and emotional. Scott’s voice grew quieter. “Are you sick? Do you have cancer or something?”
“No. Not even. Let’s just say I need to be more mindful about eating.” I could talk about eating, but my stomach lurched at the thought. “So…can we meet somewhere for breakfast or lunch?” I knew I didn’t want to invite him to my parents’ house, and I sensed his hesitation to meet at all. Maybe a neutral public place would take off some of the pressure.
“Sure. We could go to that truck stop on the east of town if you want.”
Urg. I’d never been there. Just the idea of dining at a truck stop made me think I’d never want to eat again. Considering it, though, I suspected I knew why Scott chose the place. It was unlikely anyone we knew would be there. But maybe I was wrong about the reason. “What time?”
“Ten?”
“Okay.” Shit. Now my stomach felt like it was filled with lumpy, spoiled milk. “See you then.”
As I watched him walk back inside Bob’s, an emptiness filled me inside. It wasn’t like when I found out I’d never been pregnant. This was somehow worse. I felt cold and dead now as I realized that Scott didn’t and never had loved me. As I forced the air down into my lungs, it seemed to cut me as I took in the harsh truth. Now I was nothing more than a thorn in his side for which he’d set an appointment to have removed—over breakfast, no less. Somehow, I had to find my inner strength before tomorrow…because I was going to need it.
* * *
I don’t know why the fuck I cared what I wore. Does anyone in her right mind choose the right outfit to wear to an official breakup meeting?
But I chose carefully anyway, picking a pair of jeans that fit and a light gray baby doll tee—the only problem with that was the nicotine patch on my upper arm stood out like a sore thumb. That aside, the shirt was more flattering than most of my current wardrobe, because it emphasized my petite frame without highlighting all the weight I’d lost.
I arrived at the truck stop ten minutes early. Even though I didn’t see Scott’s truck there, I looked around inside anyway. When I was satisfied he wasn’t there yet, I sat down at a booth by a window and a perky young waitress with blue hair pulled into a bun brought me a menu a few seconds later.
“Hey, hon. My name’s Daisy, and I’ll be your server today. Want some coffee to start?”
“I’d love some. I’m expecting someone else, so I’m not going to order yet.”
“All right. I’ll bring another menu, too.”
Soon, I had a mug of coffee that was too hot to drink but smelled good and a second menu that looked lonely on the other side of the booth. After a few minutes, I grew tired of waiting and pulled a small notebook out of my purse. Soon, I was sketching the tables on the other side of the restaurant. It was a stupid shitty doodle, but I needed something to keep my hands busy.
If I were still smoking…I’d be half a pack in by now.
The waitress came by a while later to refill my coffee. When I asked her what time it was, she looked at her wristwatch and said, “Twenty after.”
“Thanks.”
I was starting to wonder if I’d been stood up.
Ten more minutes, and then I’m leaving. How pathetic I was. Obviously, this was Scott’s way of telling me we had no chance in hell.
But I continued sketching furiously, determined not to lose it. I felt dangerously close to tears, and I swore that if I had to cry, I’d save it for the car. Not here.
And then he slid into the seat across from me. Same old Scott. Not quite as cold as yesterday.
“Sorry I’m late.” He held up the palms of his blackened hands. “Flat tire.” I supposed calling me to let me know he’d be late was too much to ask—but I felt a little better just the same and even felt a twinge of guilt for not trusting him.
“Why don’t you go ahead and wash up?”
He looked around for the restrooms. “Order me some coffee, would you?”
I nodded and watched him walk off. Jesus…he was still fucking hot even with a little dirt and grease on his jeans and hands. I suspected I’d never get to touch him again, though—his body or heart.
“Coffee for your beau, hon?”
“Yeah.”
She turned the mug on the table over and filled it with coffee. “I’ll be back in a few to take your order.”
When Scott exited the bathroom, I made sure I looked like I was preoccupied, so I was sketching in my notebook again. “Whatcha doin’?”
