33
Kayla
Daren’s eyes.
They’re killers. And if I keep staring into them I’ll be a goner for sure.
I drag my eyes from his and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly on the verge of tears again. Never in my life have I been so emotionally desperate for someone else.
I was supposed to come down here, sign my dad’s estate papers, then start a new life. It was going to be a crappy, poor life, but it was going to be mine—all mine—without anyone else being a wild card that could bail on me or die at any given moment.
But now… now my plan is blown to hell and all I can think about is how I don’t want to leave the crappy little town of Copper Springs because I don’t want to leave Daren Ackwood.
I AM A SAPPY, SAPPY GIRL.
My eyes snag on him again. It’s simply not fair how gorgeous he is. It’s cruel to everyone in the room. He outshines them all. And then add to it that he’s actually a good guy and not some arrogant spoiled frat boy and, well, everyone else may as well just give up on life completely.
I inwardly sigh. Why didn’t I realize what a gem he was when we were younger and I still had a shot? And why was I so unspeakably cruel to him yesterday? My God. I pushed every vulnerable button he had and watched him just fall to pieces. But the worst part? I love him. I watch as he cuts into his pancakes and my stomach does a summersault.
I love Daren. I love his soul. I love that he wants to do the right thing. I even love all his brokenness and misplaced self-worth. He’s crazy and insecure and terrified of getting attached to people and I absolutely love him. If only I’d know this about myself yesterday before I destroyed him with my words.
It’s hard to see love when you have it, but when it’s gone you’re blind to anything else.
He looks up and our eyes meet again. Mine sting with the threat of more tears but I can’t seem to look away from him. He tilts his head ever so slightly, like his big heart doesn’t want to see me sad, and the stinging grows hotter.
Why? Why in the HELL do I suddenly want to cry all the time?
“Good morning,” says a smooth voice. I look up to see Ellen smiling down at me.
“Good morning.” I smile back.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she says.
“Of course not.” I gesture to the seat, and she takes it.
“So. What are you doing today?” she asks.
“Nothing. I have no plan for today or any day after today,” I say wistfully.
She nods. “Okay. Well, do you feel like making a little bit of money?”
I raise a brow. “I’m listening…”
She smiles. “I’m short on staff. My prep cook just moved to Phoenix and I desperately need to hire a waitress, so I was hoping maybe you could jump in today and serve tables for a few hours. I’ll totally pay you.”
My eyes widen a smidge. I could really use the money but I don’t know…
“It would really mean a lot to me,” Ellen adds.
I bite my lip. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
“Excellent!” she says. Then looks across the room. “Oh, some guests are here to check in. I’ll be right back.”
As she heads to the front desk, I grab my purse and search for my lip gloss. The folder of trust fund papers catches my eye and I pull it out. I go through the statements, eyeing all the withdrawals made in Chicago. I tally up all the withdrawals and feel a little sick to my stomach. Not just because of the insane amount she essentially stole from me, but because all that money went to drugs. Her selfishness had no bounds at the end.
I start stacking the papers back into the folder when a page that looks different than the rest catches my eye. I pull it from the group. It’s a printed-out chain of e-mails between my mom and dad when I was nineteen.
Gia,
I just checked Kayla’s trust fund account and it’s nearly empty. What happened? I thought we agreed not to let Kayla use it until she was twenty-five.
James
James,
Some unplanned expenses came up so I dipped into her savings. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be concerned with.
Gia
Gia,
If unplanned expenses come up, you’re supposed to call me, not use Kayla’s money. That was supposed to be for her future. Are you using again? I know Kayla is an adult now, but she still needs you.
James
James,
How dare you accuse me of using. I’m clean. I told you that before. If you’re so concerned about the trust account, why don’t you just replenish it?
Gia
Gia,
You told me you were clean and then you banished me from seeing Kayla. I will replenish the trust fund if you let me speak with Kayla. You can’t continue to keep her from me just because you’re scared I’ll tell her about the trust fund money. It’s been three years, Gia. This has gone on for long enough.
James
James,
It’s not me. It’s Kayla. She doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. And I do NOT have a drug problem. If you won’t put money back in the trust that’s fine. We don’t need your money anyway.
Gia
Gia,
I can’t help you if you don’t want help, but please think about what you’re doing. Kayla needs you sober. You don’t have to love me or the life we used to have, but I need you to love Kayla. More than yourself. More than drugs. I will help you in any way. Just say the word. And please tell Kayla I love her and miss her deeply.
James
The chain of e-mails ends there and I slouch in my chair, stunned. My mother kept me from my father. All these years I thought he just wrote me off, but really my mom hid me away and told me lies. She told my dad lies too. Kayla doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. Did he believe her? Did my father die thinking I didn’t love him?
My hands start to shake and my heart begins to pound.
My addict mom used every penny of my trust account to support her habit, and then blamed our poverty and my needing to drop out of college on my father. Such wickedness. Such dark, black evil.
And all because of her addiction.
She took everything from me, including my father. She made me resent him for no reason. She let me cry myself to sleep at night. She watched my little heart break and she didn’t even bat an eye.
My pounding heart slams against my chest and I can hardly breathe.
“Sorry about that,” Ellen says, plopping down in the seat across from me with a big smile, but her face instantly falls when she sees me. “Kayla, what’s wrong?”
I try to fill her in on what I just read, but my words don’t come out right so I just hand her the printed e-mails. She reads in silence for a moment, covering her mouth as she reaches the end of the chain, then looks up at me with profound sympathy in her eyes.
“Oh, Kayla.” She reaches out and places her hand over mine on the table. “I’m so sorry. This is… this is awful.”
I stare at the tablecloth, feeling tears burn behind my eyes but not yet crying. “Do you think my dad died believing I didn’t want him in my life?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I knew your father well and he loved you, and felt your love for him, very much.”
I blink. “You knew my dad?”
She nods. “He used to stay here at the inn sometimes, when he wanted to get his thoughts clear. He was here a lot this past year.”
“Because of the cancer,” I say, nodding. “I didn’t know he had cancer. No one told me he was sick.”
She frowns. “Are you sure? Because I know your father wrote you letters… and called… several times, actually. I was here when he did it. Your mother didn’t want him to speak with you. But he asked her to pass messages on to you about how sick he was.”