It worked.
He’d resorted to a low tactic by taking advantage of my sister’s trust in order to threaten me. At least, that’s what it felt like. Beckett wasn’t aggressive, nor did I take him for the kind of guy who would kidnap a child. He had a mouth on him when he drank, but I’d never seen him do anything like this before, and what gave me chills was how smooth he was when I caught him in the act, and how casually he walked away.
“Let’s go, Maizy.”
I tossed her ring in the trash and she started to cry, so I picked her up. “Sweetie, don’t be mad at me.”
Tears streamed down her ruddy cheeks and her mouth was agape. “But that was my ring,” she whined.
“Maze, can I tell you something? It’s a secret.”
She nodded and wiped her nose.
“Never take a ring from a boy unless he’s your prince.”
Something sparked in her teary eyes.
“Remember how you said you wanted to marry a prince? Well, if you take a ring from another boy before you meet the prince, then he won’t marry you.”
Panic flooded her eyes. “But I took that one!”
“No, it doesn’t count because I threw it away. That’s the rule. Your big sis has to take it off and then the spell is undone.”
She smiled and hugged my neck. Maizy loved stories about magic and spells. In her eyes, the world was nothing but a fairytale. Adults were blind to the magic that existed and only little kids could see it.
“Come on, little girl. Time for us to go home. You know, you’re getting way too heavy for me to carry,” I grunted out dramatically. “Are you sure you’re not hiding a moose in your pocket?” She giggled and rested her head on my shoulder.
That did the trick, and Maizy hummed one of her favorite songs for the rest of the ride home.
***
After a grueling day at work on Saturday, I threw my keys on the bar and collapsed on my sofa. The neighbor downstairs decided to have a party and the music thumped against the floor, rattling one of the pictures on my wall.
All these months, I’d managed to successfully avoid telling my mom about my breakup with Beckett. She liked him, and that made it more difficult. After the other night, I decided to let the cat out of the bag because I was afraid of him showing up at her house. When I finally confessed, I left out the part with Maizy because I still didn’t know what to make of it myself. It wasn’t a deliberate threat, but it just left me with a sick feeling. Mom didn’t say anything and it was probably for the best. If she had defended him and gone on about forgiveness, I might have sped out of there at ninety miles per hour in “angry mode.”
A woman screamed downstairs and laughter followed. I wondered what Wes would have thought about my life. I still saw him as the cool guy and he might have gone downstairs to join them. But he would be thirty and who knows… maybe married. It was hard to imagine him as anything but the young man I once knew.
I could still remember the last time I saw him, two nights before the accident. I was living at home and he stopped by to have a talk with Dad. He walked me into my bedroom and told me I needed to get a full-time job and move out. I’d been slacking off at my job because I hated flipping burgers. Wes shared his concern with me and wanted to know if Dad had been giving me a hard time. He told me about a job at Sweet Treats and suggested I could move in with him until I found a place. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll go to a movie,” he said.
God, why didn’t I call him? I ended up blowing him off and it had become one of the biggest regrets of my life. A last chance to see him, or maybe that could have changed his fate and he would never have gone out on the night he died.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at my front door. I catapulted off the sofa and grabbed the fireplace poker—my weapon of choice.
Through the peephole, I watched Naya impatiently pacing in circles with her arms folded.
I opened the door.
“This is the last straw. I called the police this time,” she announced, rushing past me and going straight for the can of Spanish peanuts in the kitchen.
“The party girl called the cops?” I smirked.
Naya strutted into the living room and plopped down on the floor, leaning against one of my chairs with her long legs crossed.
“Lexi, on more than one occasion I’ve invited them to my parties, but they’ve never once returned the courtesy.”
I flopped onto the couch and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table. “Do you really want to party with a bunch of college kids?” My gaze flicked up. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
She popped a peanut into her mouth and brushed the salt from her fingers onto her tight shorts.
“Crash it,” I suggested.