It’s been months since her last hit of anything that used to run her life, but the effects can be seen if you look for them—shifting eyes, a shake to her hands. I’ve tried to make her life as comfortable as I can. She’s my mother I remind myself several times a day. My fucker of a father screwed her over for what sounds like a fairly clear case of kidnapping and to off his enemies. Even though I don’t like to think of myself as the product of that fucked-up situation, it’s always in the back of my mind. So I owe her a lot more than a roof over her head.
I walk a little farther down the hall and say, “I’ve set up a spending account in your name. I wasn’t sure what your monthly expenses would be but I hope it’s enough. I don’t want you reliant on anyone for your needs. “
Eyeing me she asks, “But you?”
“Not even me, but I’m paying a debt that my father accrued.”
“Is that all I will ever be to you?” She leans against the doorframe, sadness taking hold of her expression, the corners of her eyes dipping to match the smile that was there.
Madeline is my mom. Always. But April is . . . I run my fingers through my hair. “I hope not. I’m just not ready for everything all at once. We’re still getting to know each other and unfortunately, other things have taken my time and precedence.”
“Like Sara Jane?”
“Not like Sara Jane. Sara Jane. She needs me right now.”
“How is she?”
“Recovering. I’ll bring her back here to continue her recovery.”
“She’s a sweet girl. It’s tragic what happened to her.”
It’s more than fucking tragic, but yeah, April doesn’t know all the details. She adds, “I look forward to getting to know her better.”
“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I have a guest.”
“Yes, of course. I’m going to rest a bit.”
I start to walk away, but stop and turn back. “I almost forgot. There’s also a car at your disposal in the garage.”
Her eyes go wide and the smile returns, her whole demeanor perking up. “The Aston Martin is a beautiful car. My father used to drive one.”
“I drive the Mercedes when I need a car, so please use the Porsche.”
“The SUV?”
“Yes. Is that all right?”
A smile appears. “Yes, more than all right. Thank you, Alex.”
“You’re welcome.” I descend the stairs into the living room. Shelly is hard to miss among the dark brown tones of the large room. Deep red hair flows down her slender back, her shoulders disappearing under the mane of hair. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Turning around, her back is almost touching the French doors that lead to the terrace. Her shoulders are slumped, the weight of death crushing her spirit. This is not the vivacious girl I met years ago. Discounting her in so many ways back then because I was so fixated on Sara Jane, I didn’t realize until now how much a part of my life she had become. Seamlessly, she blended into our group, never needing my attention, and content with only Chad’s.
When I approach, her face is pale, and black is smudged under puffy lids. She tries to smile, but fails and drops her head to cry. Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Her breakdown challenges my willpower. I’ve tried so hard to remain a pillar of strength for Sara Jane, Cruise, and myself. But here now, under Shelly’s devastation, I falter. She cries, “I love him, so much. I loved—”
“I know.” I stroke her hair, holding her against me. “I did too.”
Tilting my chest back, I bend my head while lifting her chin up until our eyes meet. “Hey. I need you to stay strong, Shelly.”
She shakes her head with tears flowing freely down her face.
I say, “You haven’t been to see Sara Jane.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t be what she needs me to be right now, and I don’t want her worrying about me. She has enough to worry about.”
“Of course she’s worried about you. Just because she hasn’t seen you doesn’t mean she doesn’t cry for you or miss you.”
She sucks in a harsh breath and her tears dry in her eyes. “I’m a terrible friend.”
“You’re not terrible, but she needs you, and I need you to be strong for her as well. I know this is a lot to ask right now—”
“They found his body . . . in the river.”
This discussion isn’t pleasant for anyone. “Chad deserved better.”
Her eyes snap to me. “He deserved not to be murdered.”
Neely appears in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “My apologies for interrupting, but may I get you something to drink?”
“No, Neely. Thank you. You can leave for the night.”
“Yes, sir. Have a good night.”
It drives me mad when she speaks to me like I’m my father, but I don’t have the inclination to get into that right now. I have more pressing matters, like Chad and Shelly. I back up to the couch and sit on the arm. “I’ll drive you to see her.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, now.” Our eyes are fixed. Winner takes all, and I have no intentions of losing.
She blinks and backs down though still challenging me. “Why? Why now? I know you love Sara Jane, but I’m grieving—”
“Because we lost Chad, too.”
“But you didn’t lose Sara Jane. She’s recovering.”
Abruptly, I stand. “She needs her best friend.”
“You expect me to make her feel better when I can’t imagine waking up in the morning without Chad by my side?”
Stepping closer, I take her arms in my hands to get her attention. “You’re going to live, Shelly. You’re going to survive the pain you feel now. It may not seem like it, but you will. You will because Chad would want you to. So for thirty minutes, I need you to be strong for Sara Jane.”
She turns her head away from me, and her voice wavers under her grief. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not a question.” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but it gets the reaction I want.
Her eyes go wide and her back straightens. “Let go of me, Alexander.”
I release her arms but don’t move back. My stare remains heavy on her. “King,” I correct.
Anger is what I need from her. That’s the only thing that will save her from overwhelming sorrow. The fight returns to her eyes and she walks around me. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Thank you.”
Looking back over her shoulder, anger flames in her eyes. She stops, and says, “You’re welcome . . . King.”
Compliance is a trait I’ve always valued in Cruise. He never questions. He just does what needs to be done. That’s loyalty.
What I need from Shelly isn’t loyalty to me, but loyalty to Sara Jane, something my girl doubted when she saw Shelly at the penthouse. I need Shelly’s fire that burns deep inside. And then I see it . . . what I pushed for. Despite her grief, Sara Jane will come first. Shelly will be there for her friend. Always.
11
Sara Jane
I am strong.
I am strong.
“Run!”
“Sara Jane?”
“Nooo. No, Chad. Oh God!”
I jolt awake, my heart rate spiking in my chest as well as on the monitor, the ringing becoming a part of my reality. The nurse is here, a hand on my arm, rubbing gently. “You’re safe, Sara Jane. You’re okay.”
The hospital.
A nurse.
The bed.
The blankets.
The . . . Shelly?
My eyes deceive me. It must be because I’m sleepy. I rub my eyes, but she’s here, standing next to me. “Sara Jane,” she says, tears falling from her chin onto my cheeks when she hugs me.