You Rock My World (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 3)

The fact he hadn’t bothered to get in touch with her was telling.

“Hey,” Sidney said quietly. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m good.” She leaned back on the bench with a small smile. She was good. Kind of. She sighed. Not really.

Damn, Travis Blackwell. She’d been living in a bubble and hadn’t seen that one coming. She should have been prepared. Should have had her armor in place. Instead, she’d let him press every button she had going. God, she couldn’t even remember what he’d said, other than banging and wife. As if he had the right to think such things.

She made a sound of disgust. Ruby decided the best thing to do was forget about it. Travis wasn’t here to stay. This was just a quick visit to see the new baby (what a joke that was), that was all. Heck, he’d probably already left for LA and the fancy home he owned on the coast.

Her cheeks got hot at the thought. She would die if anyone knew that on occasion she grabbed a tub of chocolate ice cream, sat her butt in front of the computer, and Googled her ex. Why in hell he’d purchased a home in Los Angeles when he played hockey in Detroit didn’t make sense to most. Ruby got it. Detroit was too close to home. She’d done the same thing. Left town without any intention of returning.

But life, such as it was, had decided to give her more than one cross to bear, and less than two years after she’d left, she found herself back in the one place she didn’t want to be. A lesser woman would have crumbled or taken the easy way out and not come back. But Ruby wasn’t that girl. Besides, Ryder needed her.

“Ruby?”

She jumped up from the bench and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go, Sid. I’m already late.”

Her friend brushed crumbs from her pale pink skirt and joined her. “Ryder?”

Even though Ruby didn’t have to pretend with Sidney, she pasted a smile on her face—one that said everything was fine—and nodded.

“How is he?” There was more than just concern in Sidney’s voice. Considering the history between her bestie and her brother, Ruby wasn’t surprised.

“Well, he didn’t show up for work today, and he’s not answering his phone. That’s never a good sign. I guess I’ll find out when I get to the house.”

“Let me know, okay?” Sidney said quietly. “We still on for dinner?”

“Can I get back to you about that?” At the moment, Ruby had no idea what she was walking into. On top of the crap week she’d already had, she wasn’t sure she’d be good company for anyone. Even for someone as understanding as her girlfriend.

Sidney hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “For sure. Let me know.”

Ten minutes later, Ruby was headed across the bridge, her expensive Mercedes pointed in the direction of The Rails. Her roots were dug in deep here, but it wasn’t nostalgia that pumped through her veins as she drove along streets that needed to be paved, lined with older homes. Some sported overgrown lawns or weed-filled flower gardens, while others were long abandoned, their boarded-up windows now sad, dark, unseeing eyes that stared silently into the street.

She didn’t really have a name for what filled her as she turned onto First Avenue, mostly because it was a culmination of a lot of different things. Sadness. Pain. Anger. Hurt. Shame.

It was dumb, really. She was a grown ass woman who’d made something of her life. She’d done what others hadn’t—made it out of The Rails. She’d taken a chance, gambled all her money, and invested in the new development across the lake. She was the sole owner of The Pines Spa and Wellness resort, and in only five short years, it had become one of the premier spas in the country, catering to those with deep pockets and a need for seclusion.

She’d given one hundred and fifty percent of her

self to make sure it was a success, and with a waiting list up to six months, she’d reached a level that made her feel as if she could finally live a little. She’d accomplished a lot for a woman of twenty-eight, and yet this place still made her feel like that twelve-year-old girl in used clothes from the thrift shop. The girl who felt as if she didn’t deserve to belong. The girl whose mother had taken off for something better when Ruby was five, leaving her with a cold, distant father and a twin brother to share the misery. There’d never been enough money. Or food. Or love.

She was the cliché. The classic “girl from the wrong side of the tracks,” full of false bravado and attitude. A girl who kept her heart hidden beneath invisible scars. That girl was never far away, because there was no running from the past.

Ruby pulled up to a small bungalow, the last one on First Ave, and the closest to the railway line. The paint was new—she’d managed to get that done the last time Ryder was in treatment. But the shutters needed repair, and the front step was sagging. The flowers in the garden were overgrown with weeds, the purple and pink impatiens barely alive, and she pursed her lips as her gaze ran over the knee-high grass.

“Jesus, Ryder.” He must have done something to piss off the landscape company she’d hired.

Ruby slipped from the car and gave a quick wave to old Mrs. Davis. The woman sat on the front porch of her equally small and nondescript bungalow. Her place was tidy and well kept, and Ruby felt that old familiar sting of embarrassment. She made a mental note to contact another company to look after the place. Mrs. Davis nodded back at Ruby, her frizzy gray hair bobbing around her chin, and drank her tea as she settled back on her rocker with a book. There were no words exchanged, but then Mrs. Davis had never been much of a talker.

Ruby stepped gingerly onto the step and scooped up a pile of flyers that littered the front door. Balancing what had to be at least a few weeks’ worth of adverts, she tried the door handle, and it swung open easily. Ruby hesitated for a moment and then walked into the house she’d grown up in.

It was dark and quiet. She wrinkled her nose and tossed the flyers on the small table near the entrance before heading to the kitchen. Dishes were left on the table and countertop and in the sink. The milk carton was expired, and she made a face as she grabbed it and emptied the sour contents down the sink before turning around and gazing about in disgust. The place was a pigsty.

It looked as if Stella, the cleaning lady, hadn’t been in days. She spied moldy food on the floor beside the garbage bin. Hell, Stella probably hadn’t been in weeks.

A slow burn began in the pit of her stomach, and she headed down the small hall that led to the three modest bedrooms located at the back of the house. All the doors were closed, though her focus was on the last one. It used to be her father’s, but when he went to the home, Ryder had taken over.

She didn’t hesitate and reached for the door, not flinching when the damn thing swung open and banged into the wall. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, and with a grimace, she took a few steps toward the bed.