The Thing About Trouble (Crystal Lake 1)

“Did you give her a name?”

Tired, Blue nodded. “Adelaide.”

The nurse looked down at the baby in her arms. “That’s a pretty name.” She disappeared through the door, and that was the last time Blue saw her child. She’d woken up to a different world. A cruel, cold, unfeeling world where her own mother acted as if the baby didn’t exist and her step-father watched silently from the shadows.

She’d left as soon as she could, and she’d never looked back. She’d hopped a bus to Vegas and tried to forget.

* * *

Blue woke with a start. Her neck was stiff and sore, her eyes felt as if they’d been poked by toothpicks, and her mouth was fuzzy. For a few seconds, she didn’t know where she was. It was dark, and her watch said it three a.m. Rolling over with a groan, she stumbled out of bed and headed to the washroom. She looked like crap. Bloodshot, puffy eyes stared back at her. Pale skin. Dull hair.

And still that weight was there. That painful reminder of what was lost. Both in the past and just recently. She slid out of her clothes and jumped in the shower, where she stood under the hot spray until her fingers and toes shrivelled. She bypassed the expensive clothes that hung in her walk-in closet and instead raided the drawers on the bottom shelf. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a Las Vegas sweatshirt that was ratty from use and many, many washes. She left her hair to hang in damp waves and padded back into her bedroom, where the ominous envelope taunted her.

Before she could change her mind, she scooped it off the table and tore into it, her fist going to her mouth as several photos fell onto the floor. Stiff, wooden fingers gently picked them up, and she sank to the bed, eyes glued to the images.

A dark-haired girl smiling at a friend in the park.

The same girl lacing up soccer cleats beneath a live oak tree.

Riding a bike.

Walking down a residential sidewalk, wearing jean shorts and a Beatles T-shirt.

Her features were soft and delicate, and so much like her own, it hurt to look at the photos. She studied each of them for several long minutes. Did the girl look happy? Was she content? Did she wonder about Blue? Did she know about Blue?

Pensive, Blue sat back on the bed and slammed her eyes shut. She wanted Cam. Wanted his arms around her. His voice in her ear telling her everything would be okay. Her head fell forward, and, defeated, she bit her trembling lip. She’d made the right decision. Cam and Tawny belonged together. He needed her. And with his father ill, now more than ever. If she could save one family, if she could make sure Cam and Tawny had a chance to survive, then Blue’s pain would be worth it. All she had to do was sign Edward’s papers, and it was done.

After he’d left the dance studio, she’d paid a visit to her own lawyer. Mr. McVey was a somber, serious man who’d been a close friend to David. He’d read over the agreement and advised her not to sign. However, she told him she’d take his thoughts under advisement but had him insert two clauses she was certain Edward would overlook as long as he got the company back, and she left town.

The dance studio and all the monies she’d set up in a private trust to run it were to be handed over to Poppy. She knew the woman would keep to Blue’s vision, a place of dance meant for children who couldn’t afford it. She also knew Poppy would take the responsibility to heart and make sure it ran smoothly.

Secondly, Blue arranged to set up a trust for Tawny. She would use her own money for this, but she wanted to make sure the little girl would never want for anything, no matter what. Blue, more than anyone, knew how fragile a future could be and that nothing is guaranteed.

If for some reason Cam wasn’t able to keep Tawny or give her the home she deserved, there was money there, and her lawyer would make sure it was used appropriately.

Thirdly, if any of the gardens she’d designed and discussed with David were harmed or defaced or any of the charitable organizations he supported had funding taken away, the deal would be null and void.

Blue rifled through her purse and found a pen. She signed the documents, sealed them in a manila envelope she’d grabbed from her lawyer, and then sent an email to the courier she always used, requesting a pickup by noon. Once that was done, she wrote a letter to her brother, grabbed her purse, a few things from the safe, and the information and pictures of her daughter. Silently, she made her way downstairs. She put the envelope for Cash on the counter, gave Giselle a last kiss and a quick rub behind the ears, set the paperwork for the courier on the small table next to the front door, and then headed out into the garage. She bypassed the expensive Mercedes and hopped into her Honda.

Exactly one minute later, red taillights disappeared around the bend as the car sped away. Crystal Lake was in Blue’s rearview mirror, and the image would stay hours after she left. But in her soul, she knew it was a picture she’d carry forever. Blue had left a big chunk of her heart back there. And she was pretty sure she would never get it back.

25

A jackhammer had taken up residence inside Cam Booker’s cranium and was going at it full tilt. He’d emptied the bottle of pain meds at sunrise and still no let-up. Could be from lack of sleep. Could be from the bottle of JD he’d cracked open the night before. Either way, it was self-inflicted, which made it worse.

He’d just dropped off Tawny and Silas at school, and at least now could drop the façade he’d been forced to take on. Breakfast had been brutal. He’d done his best to act like everything was good and normal—as if unicorns and fucking rainbows existed in his world. He didn’t want any of the turmoil, the betrayal and pain he felt, dumped on Tawny. No way did a kid deserve that. Did he succeed? No clue.

She’d chatted away during breakfast. Asked for a second piece of toast with butter and strawberry jam. She’d downed her orange juice and taken her vitamins. After deciding to wear a red sweater with big white snowflakes across the chest, she was ready for school. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of keeping to their routine until it was time to leave.

Tawny gave him an extra-long hug and whispered into his ear. Told him that Mrs. Eddy’s chicken soup made anyone feel better. Cam was guessing Mrs. Eddy’s chicken soup was pretty damn good. But it would take a miracle to get him out of his funk.

And then there was the anger.

He’d gone and fallen in love with a woman who cared more about money and prestige and bloodlines than she did about him and Tawny. He’d been floored. It was as if the Blue he’d come to know had disappeared and been replaced with a Stepford wife version of the one he’d first met. He needed to cut his losses and let go. That was what a smart man would do. So why was he having such a problem doing it?

It was the love thing. The handing your heart over to someone and then that someone completely destroying it. It was going to take time to get over her, and until then, his anger simmered. It heated his blood and made him miserable because he had no outlet for it. Which was why, an hour after he’d dropped Tawny at school, he found himself sitting in his parents’ driveway with no real clue as to why. Harry and Lisa had enough to worry about.

His mother’s car was gone, but that was a good thing. No way could he keep up appearances around her. She had a sixth sense for this kind of shit, and she’d be all over him. Cam didn’t want to talk it out or examine his feelings. And he sure as hell didn’t want to hear what undoubtedly would be his mother’s position on the matter. “I told you she wasn’t right for you.”