Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)
“Alex,” he said as he shook.
“Um. Sorry about today. I was just coming to check on her.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Lauren cleared her throat. “Have you talked to her? She’s not answering when I call.”
“I haven’t tried.”
“Mmm.” Her eyes slid toward her car. “She’s probably at her dad’s.”
He swallowed back the questions he wanted to ask. It was none of his business. “Right. Well. Good luck.”
He felt her eyes on his back as he walked away. Maybe he should just go. If someone forced him to tell the truth, he’d have to admit that the reason he’d planned to hang around tonight was because he’d hoped to spend one more night with Sophie. But that wasn’t going to happen, and his brother didn’t even want to grab a drink, so Alex should just hit the road.
He headed for the motel to pack. The sky was clear and he could put Wyoming behind him by sundown. What more could he ask for?
When he hit the throttle, the roar of the engine drowned out any answers his mind had to that question.
* * *
IT WAS ONLY 4:00 P.M. when Sophie pulled up to her house, but it felt like she’d been gone for days.
Her father had returned at two and they’d shared a big midday meal in silence before he’d headed back out to work. Her brother had disappeared into his room again, and Sophie had put the leftovers in the fridge and washed the dishes. Then she’d found herself sitting at the kitchen table, trying to figure out how to apologize to her dad for what he’d heard.
She hadn’t said anything wrong, per se, but he must have been hurt. She’d never said that to him, not even during her darkest teenage years. You’re not my real dad. Even thinking it felt wrong. He was as real as any dad had ever been to any child.
In the end, she couldn’t think of what to say, so she’d just left. Now she felt like her limbs were made of lead as she climbed out of her car and walked to her door. She glanced toward a passing car and saw both the driver and passenger staring at her as they slid past. Shit. She’d been so worried about the hurt she and her brother had managed to cause that she’d blocked out the bigger picture.
Her secret was out. Everyone knew she was just like her mother. There was no hiding it now.
The weight of her body multiplied again. She made it up the stairs and through the door and gave up any idea she’d had of stopping in at the library before it closed. She’d call Jean-Marie tomorrow. She’d call everyone she needed to call tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight she’d draw the curtains and crawl into bed and sleep for as many hours as she possibly could.
She locked the door behind her and dropped her purse.
“Where is my husband?”
Sophie squeaked in shock at the voice drifting from the dim of her living room. She slapped her hand to the wall and slid it in a wide arc until she found the switch, but she realized who the voice belonged to just before the lights revealed Rose Bishop.
“Mrs. Bishop,” she gasped, “you can’t be here.”
“Where’s my husband?” She wore the same black dress she’d worn at the dedication, but her feet were bare and red, her face blotchy and eyes swollen. Her short gray hair stood up in strange swoops as if she’d clutched it over and over.
“Mrs.—”
“Why can’t you just leave him alone? He’s mine. You have your own husband, your own kids. Leave my family alone or I’ll tell everyone what you are!”
Sophie’s startled fear turned to a different kind of alarm. Something was very wrong here, beyond the fact that this woman had somehow broken into Sophie’s house. She hadn’t gotten off the couch, at least. She wasn’t charging at Sophie or trying to attack.
“Mrs. Bishop, where are Shane and Alex?”
“They’re at home where they should be. Where Wyatt should be. Why won’t you just give him back to me?” She began to cry, her face crumpling before she hid it in her hands.
Keeping a careful eye on the woman curled onto her couch, Sophie dug her phone from her purse and called Alex. There was no answer, but she waited for voice mail. “Alex,” she whispered. “Your mom is at my house and I think there’s something really wrong. Can you come by? Please?”
A tiny meow pierced the room just as she ended the call.
Rose’s head popped up. Her puffy eyes narrowed, then they focused on the furry gray ball that curled up at her feet. “Pastel?” she whispered. She picked up the cat and cuddled it close. Then she looked around as if she were trying to get her bearings.