I struggled to breathe, my chest moving cumbersomely in an effort to force down oxygen.
Your sugar daddy bit it.
Sugar daddy.
Bit it.
Make your move.
God, old coot.
And he knew about Patrick’s PI.
Of course he would.
Of course, of course, of course.
He was a police officer. This would not go unnoticed.
Damn!
“He wasn’t my—” I started to tell him that first, it wasn’t my PI and second, Patrick wasn’t my sugar daddy and last, as old as he’d become, he’d never been an old coot.
I didn’t get any further with that either.
“Have no clue what’s in your head, you movin’ out here. Then again, I never had any clue how your messed-up mind worked. But for the record, I don’t like it. And on that record, I’ll state plain I don’t wanna see you. I don’t wanna hear from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I can’t imagine what would give you even that first hint that I’d ever wanna have you even a shadow in my life again, but just to make absolutely certain you’re with me on this, I don’t want even a shadow of you in my life again. If that means you abandon the lighthouse, folks’ll deal. We have before. And that would be my choice, you getting the hell out of town, as far as you can go, and staying there. But if you stick around, Cady, you do it avoiding me. All that needed to be said was said. There’s no going back even if I wanted to. But just to make certain we’re clear, I irrevocably do not.”
I stared through the window at him wondering if he could see me bleeding.
“Confirm we’re clear,” he ground out.
He could not see me bleeding.
Then again, the last time he’d shredded me, he didn’t see it either.
“We’re clear,” I whispered.
And with that, just like Coert, he didn’t nod, he didn’t say farewell. He straightened and sauntered in his hulking way (even if, still, his frame was far from a hulk) to the steps to the sheriff station and in.
Not looking back.
I started the car.
I took pains to check my mirrors then turn my head to make certain that, backing out onto busy Cross Street, I wouldn’t hit anyone.
I then drove the three blocks to the inn.
I parked in their lot at the back. I got out. I went up to the lovely White Pine Suite with its fireplace and delicious soaking tub and scrumptious gray sheets under its crisp blue and white paisley comforter with its shock-of-color red toss pillows and let myself in.
I went right to that bed and fought picking up the phone to call the front desk and ask them to send up two bottles of their very good Syrah.
Instead, I called Kath.
“How’d it go?” was how she greeted me.
I didn’t tell her.
I burst into tears.
Stick with Me
Eighteen years earlier . . .
“SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?”
I did a slow turn, taking in the condo.
Tony’s friend obviously made good money in construction because the place was nice.
But Tony’s friend wasn’t exactly tidy, and even though he wasn’t filthy, he didn’t clean every week (or every month) and he’d clearly not given the place a scrub down before he’d left.
Although it wouldn’t be my first choice to clean up the house (and bathroom) of some guy I didn’t know, I’d had to clean the bathrooms at Sip and Save so the bathrooms here would be a walk in the park.
And it was free. A way nicer place than what I’d had before, and bigger, multi-level, two bedrooms, two baths and a basement with washer and dryer.
A washer and dryer.
Practically luxury!
This meant no laundromats.
I hadn’t been home to do my laundry since the last time my mother watched me fold my undies in their huge utility room, weighing me down with her disillusionment that I’d broken all of the dreams she’d had for her daughter.
Mom and Dad’s utility room was the worst but laundromats sucked (almost) as much.
Now it was like my whole life had changed. A little cleaning, pick up the mail, plenty of time to find a good place, to save up money and get my security deposit back.
I didn’t know what to do with all this good fortune.
“Their job is gonna run long,” Tony said when I didn’t reply. “’Least two weeks and the boss wants my bud to stay and do some finishing work. So you can move in when you want and you got nearly three months to find a new crib.”
More good fortune.
I stared up at him and took in those hazel eyes.
Totally more good fortune.
“So it good for you?” he prompted.
“Totally.”
He grinned. “Awesome. When do you wanna move in?”
“My landlords said they’d give anyone a bonus of seventy-five bucks if they moved out by the end of next week.”
“Then we’re movin’ you out on your first day off.”
We were moving me out?
“Uh . . . you don’t have to help,” I shared.
Though I didn’t know who would. I didn’t want to ask Lonnie. Maria was not immune to working diligently at a fabulous hairstyle but not so much lugging furniture around, but to help me out she wouldn’t say no, she just wouldn’t like it. But with her came Lonnie and that was out.
I had a daybed that was my couch and bed, a dresser, an end table, some kitchen and bathroom stuff and clothes, so it wasn’t going to take a mammoth U-Haul and an entire day of dragging crap around.
But I couldn’t move myself.
When I said what I said, Tony looked guarded. “Lonnie helping you?”
I shook my head. “No . . . I haven’t even told them I have to move yet.”
“So who’s gonna help you?” Tony pushed.
I bit my lip and looked anywhere but him.
“Cady,” he called.
I forced myself to look at him.
His eyes were shining. “Not like you got a mansion of shit to move, am I right? You said you live in a studio?”
“All my stuff could probably fit in the back of your truck,” I admitted.
“Then your next day off, we’re putting it in the back of the truck. Casey’s extra bedroom is empty, and if you need more space, we’ll use the basement. And you’re all good.”
“You’ve already done so much,” I noted.
“And I wouldn’t offer if I had a problem with doin’ more,” he returned.
“Tony—”
“Cady.”
He cut me off saying my name but said no more.
He really didn’t have to say any more.
It wasn’t like Lonnie and Maria were my only friends (just my closest ones, and to be honest all the rest had grown distant—mostly because of Lonnie and Maria) but I had to work the next two weekends, my days off that week were Monday and Thursday, it was Tuesday. My other friends had real jobs and worked during the week. So unless I wanted to lose my shot at seventy-five bucks or ask for an extra day off, I had no choice but to lean again on Tony.
“Pies,” I said. “Lots of ’em.”
He reached out and touched my cheek, not a stroke, just touched the tip of his finger under the apple for not even a scant second. It was gone so quickly, it was like I imagined it.
It still felt amazing.
“So your next day off?” he asked.
“Thursday,” I answered.
He went into the kitchen, opened and closed some drawers and came out of one with a pad of paper and pen.
He tossed them on the counter my way and said, “Address, Cady.”
I moved to the counter and wrote down my address.
“You are not gonna pay for that,” I declared what I thought was firmly.
This I did before Tony handed twenty-five bucks to the pizza delivery guy and said to him, “Keep it.”
“Thanks,” the guy muttered, didn’t even look at me and took off.
Tony was holding the pizza and he was also closing the door.
“Let me pay you back,” I said, wondering where my purse went.
I didn’t have a lot of stuff but somewhere along the line my purse got lost in the shuffle of me getting moved in.
That being me getting moved in with Tony’s help (this being me getting moved in with Tony doing most of the moving because he was bigger, stronger and super bossy, and part of that bossy was the clear indication he gave that he didn’t think women could do manual labor outside of standing around, pointing and saying, “I want that there”).