No Longer Lost: Secrets Of Stone: Book Nine Page 20

  “No. That’s ridiculous. I’ll stay here and pack stuff up. It’s just around the corner. You’ll be gone for fifteen minutes, tops. I’ll be fine. Here… Let’s go see if Mrs. Miller is home, and then you’ll know I’m not alone.”

  I stood rooted to the spot, indecision paralyzing me. This was precisely what I was afraid of. The thought of leaving her alone anywhere terrified me. Going to work Monday was going to be impossible.

  “Mac. Be reasonable. Don’t let him win. We cannot be terrorized like this. Come with me next door. We’ll see if Mrs. Miller’s home.”

  We crossed the shared front stoop and knocked on her elderly neighbor’s door. The old woman peeked through the curtains on the transom window before opening the door.

  “My goodness, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, her gentle smile adding more wrinkles to her face. “I’ve been so worried about you, dear.” She wrapped Taylor in a motherly hug. “The police have been here so many times, asking questions but never telling me what happened in there.” She pointed past us toward Taylor’s front door.

  “I know, Mrs. Miller, and I’m so sorry you’ve been worried. Someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place. I’m afraid I’m going to have to move out.” Taylor patted her hand while she held it in hers.

  “Oh, dear. That’s such a shame. Where will you go? It has gotten so expensive everywhere in San Diego.”

  “I know. But I’m going to move in with Mac. He has a great house in Oceanside. Right on the beach. Maybe you can come over one night for dinner?” Taylor asked hopefully.

  “Oh, I don’t know about all of that.” The old woman waved her hand. “I don’t see well enough to drive that far.”

  “That’s okay. We can come to get you, couldn’t we, Mac?” She looked over her shoulder to me.

  “Yes, of course, anytime. Okay, I’m going to run to the store. I’ll be right back.” I kissed Taylor’s cheek and pointedly showed her my cell phone. She would understand what I was getting at—that I was just a phone call away if she needed me.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she reassured me. I heard her explaining my worries to Mrs. Miller as I walked away toward the parking lot.

  I’d never hustled through a grocery store quicker in my life. I hadn’t received a text from Taylor saying we needed anything else, so I made a beeline for the trash bags, used the self-checkout, and was back in my car in less than ten minutes. If all the traffic lights worked in my favor, I would be back to the apartment complex in record time.

  The sooner the better.

  Especially with a guy like John Busby still roaming free.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Taylor

  What the hell was taking him so long? After twenty minutes, I found myself checking my phone obsessively, almost minute by minute. I was doing exactly what I scolded him for. Allowing myself to be terrorized by John the jackass. I set my phone on the kitchen counter and went to the horribly stinky bedroom for another armful of clothing, One or two more should wrap up the clothes packing, and then I would start on shoes and personal items. Like I’d repeatedly told Mac, I didn’t have a lot of material possessions to worry about, so we should be finished and out of the apartment in another hour. Two at the most.

  The front door was propped open to allow fresh air to flow through the small space. Anything to help clean, healthy smells replace the foul stench in the bedroom would be a blessing. Plus, Mrs. Miller insisted I keep the door open so she could hear me if I yelled for help. She had hers propped open with the precast concrete frog I’d given her last Christmas. It usually sat proudly on her front stoop, but it now made a handy doorstop until Mac returned.

  Finally, I heard him jingling his keys in the living room just as I rounded the corner, arms piled high with as many pairs of shoes as I could carry in one trip. The voice that greeted me was the last one I ever expected to hear in my own home. Dropping my payload where I stood, I was shocked to find Constance Stone among the chaos in my shabby apartment.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as impolitely as possible.

  “Orrrrr ‘Hello, Mrs. Stone.’ Or maybe ‘Hi, Constance,’ if we were more closely acquainted. Either of those would be appropriate greetings, Taylor.” She shook her haughty head in disapproval.

  “Like I said, what are you doing here? How did you get my address?” How could this even be happening? And where the hell was Mac?

  She took a few steps farther into the room, stepping carefully over the items still lying on the floor. Where her face wasn’t pinched from age-erasing procedures, it was from disgust of the conditions she stood among.

  “I really like what you’ve done with the place,” she said dryly. “I’ve heard of shabby chic, but this seems to be more…I don’t know…dare I say, trailer trash?”

  “Can I help you with something in particular? Your son isn’t here at the moment. He went to the store to pick up some trash bags, as a matter of fact. My apartment was broken into, as you can see.” I turned in a semicircle with my arms stretched out wide, as if showing the place proudly. “He should be back any minute, though. You’re more than welcome to wait in your car. I’ll text him and tell him to hurry. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you’ve stopped by. Completely uninvited, I might add.”

  I strode over to where my phone sat on the countertop, but she stepped in front of me to block my path. Wow, this woman had bigger balls than I’d seen in some time. If I weren’t so completely in love with her son, I’d level her ass right then and there.

  Yes. I just admitted I loved him. Maybe not right to him, but it was a start.

  “I’m sorry. How did you say you got my address again?”

  Because my front door was wide open, I heard the very distinct sound of Mac’s car as he entered my apartment complex. I had no idea how long it would take him to find a parking spot, as they were usually in high demand on the weekend, with many of the residents at home rather than at work. With any luck, he would soon be walking in on his mother’s antics.

  “Oh, dear,” she said in her best patronizing tone.

  “Cut the bullshit. I’m not your dear. I’m not your anything. Why are you here?” Knowing Mac was close by gave me a whole new level of bravery.

  “Excellent point. Money talks, Taylor. That’s probably a concept you can relate to, am I right?”

  “I’m not following.” I wanted to drag this shit out so he would hear, firsthand, whatever bomb she was about to drop.

  “Well, that’s what you’re doing here, isn’t it?” She continued with her accusations.

  “Still not following. Spell it out for me, Constance. I’m not very bright. I’m not overprivileged and overeducated like the people you’re used to hanging out with. You have to really dumb it down for me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall, settling in for an epic speech.

  “Don’t play coy, girl. There have been a dozen others like you in my son’s life. Probably more. All you see are dollar signs. I mean, look at this place. This dump. Look at you, for heaven’s sake. What does a woman—no, a girl—like you have to offer a man like Maclain?”

  Mac had quietly walked in behind his mother, now so engrossed in her speech that she didn’t hear him in the doorway. I saw him over her shoulder, and he quickly put his finger to his lips, signaling for me not to let on that he was there. I was all too happy to go along with his plan. Nothing would make me happier than to watch this cunt dig her own grave.

  “Maybe you’re a hot little number in bed.” She gave a careless shrug while sneering the rest of her speech. “But after all that dies down, what’s left? Can you even hold a decent conversation? My guess is probably not.” She made a practiced charitable grimace—one I was sure she saved for moments like handing some spare singles to the homeless man in front of the grocery store.

  “There’s more to life than shoes and Starbucks, sweetie. My son needs to be stimulated intellectually. He will grow tired of the likes of you.” She
wrinkled her face like she just tasted something sour. “He always does. I will make sure of it. I mean, that’s what mothers are for, among other things, of course. But you should do him and yourself a favor and go on your merry way now. You’re just holding him back from real opportunities of meeting quality women who deserve his attention.”

  Apparently, my ridiculously-sexy-when-he’s-mad boyfriend had heard enough. He held his hand about two feet above my tile countertop and dropped his keys. The clatter made his mother jump from her skin. Damn it! Why didn’t I think to catch that on video? It would’ve been brilliant Snapchat fodder.

  “Maclain! I didn’t hear you come in!” Her facial expression along with her body language changed a hundred eighty degrees from the cunty shrew who had just been lecturing me to the loving, doting mother who rushed to her son to greet him with outstretched arms.

  Arms he batted away and dodged as if they were Medusa’s snakes trying to strangle him.

  “What’s wrong? Why won’t you give your mother a hug? Aren’t you pleased to see me?” She made this absurd puppy-dog face, and I actually burst out laughing but quickly covered my mouth to stifle the sound, knowing it wasn’t helping the situation.

  “Now, I was just walking up the sidewalk, so I could’ve heard what you were saying incorrectly,” Mac said very seriously to his mom, “but did I just hear you say you paid someone to give you Taylor’s home address? You better tell me the fucking truth when you answer.”

  “Do not speak to me with that sort of language, mister.” She tried to divert the subject and focus on his swearing.

  “Tell me. Now.”

  Did she know her own son? At all? The man was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something.

  “Well, yes. I did. But only because you didn’t return my calls. You gave me no other choice.” She shrugged, so much like Mac did when he stated a simple fact. The similarity was eerie.

  “And I figured she was the reason.” She turned and glared at me. I returned an innocent who me? mime.

  “She’s been keeping you from your own mother. I did what I had to do. You know I can be resourceful when I have to be. It’s a trait you’ve inherited from me, you know.” She straightened her posture, gloating with pride.

  Mac’s glare, however, cut her right back down to size.

  “Do you realize that Taylor has a stalker right now? A legitimate freak that has been terrorizing her? That’s who did this in here. She doesn’t live like this normally. She’s one of the neatest, cleanest people I’ve ever met. Annoyingly so at times.” He winked at me over his mother’s head. “Who gave you the information? Again, I caution you to tell nothing but the complete truth.”

  “I really don’t appreciate these threats, Maclain.” She picked at a nonexistent thread on her sleeve.

  “And I really don’t care what you appreciate and don’t appreciate. Tell me who you paid to give you Taylor’s address. Immediately!” He bellowed the last word so loudly, both Constance and I recoiled from his outburst.

  With her hand over her heart, she panted, “For heaven’s sake. So unnecessary. It was her mother.”

  “What?” Mac and I burst it out at the same time.

  Constance whirled around to face me with a Cheshire cat grin stretching across her lips. “Yes. Your mother told me.” Then she turned back to Mac, as if she were a tattling schoolgirl. “Didn’t take much either. You know, I’m pretty sure the woman has a drug habit of some sort. I was prepared to pay her more, but at the mention of twenty-five dollars, she sang like a canary. I wired her the money at a Western Union or something similar.” She waved her hand dismissively, recalling the bothersome task. “And it was that simple. Can you imagine? Twenty-five dollars for your own daughter’s safety? She didn’t know who I was or what I planned to do with the information. Didn’t even ask, if I recall correctly.” She shrugged and turned back to me while the words sank in, watching me with scrutiny as the effects of her bitter information wore away at my heart. A cruel smirk played on her lips as we stared at one another.

  “Leave.” Mac’s voice was lethally calm. The sound was so quiet and level, it was scary in a different way.

  Constance quickly turned back to Mac, and he repeated his words. “Leave. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Get the fuck out of this apartment before I drag you out of here myself. And if you ever come near my girlfriend again without her permission and mine, I will call the police and have you arrested myself. Are we clear?” Rage was bubbling just beneath the surface of his calm tone. Why she continued to push him made me question her sanity.

  “Maclain. Be serious,” she tried to reason.

  “Get the fuck out!” This time when he yelled, I wanted to cheer him on. Complete with bicolored pom-poms and a cartwheel. My hero not only saved my heart but whatever tiny shred of what was left of my dignity too.

  His mother walked through my front door, and he slammed it so hard behind her that the window beside it rattled in its old frame.

  When he turned to me, I could already feel the goddamn waterworks coming on. How many times would he see me go to pieces before he cut bait and ran? But I couldn’t stop them if I tried. I had been dealt another critical blow, and I honestly didn’t know how much more I could take. My knees buckled the exact moment he swept me into his arms.

  It was pretty much the last thing I remembered until I woke up later in his bedroom—our bedroom—in Oceanside. He was spooned behind me in the big bed, just the sheet over both of our still fully clothed bodies. He was running his fingers through my hair, from my scalp to the ends, over and over again. It was so hypnotic, I didn’t want to move for fear he would stop. He knew how to make me feel so cherished. He was the only one who ever made me feel that way, actually. The only one who took the time or cared enough to even try.

  If he didn’t own my heart before today, he certainly did now.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and even. I thought I’d done a good job at playing possum, but nothing slipped past this man.

  “No. Thank you, though.” I couldn’t bring myself to face him.

  “Will you try to eat something anyway?”

  “My stomach hurts,” I whispered.

  “You cried so much. Maybe a smoothie? I’m worried about you.”

  “Please don’t worry.” I turned in his arms to face him. The green eyes that normally danced with life were flat. I stroked his cheek with my thumb. “Why do you look so sad?” I wanted to heal him the moment I saw the pain in his gaze.

  “I feel like I really let you down today. I’ve been lying here thinking of ways to make it up to you.” He barely kept eye contact while he spoke. So not my Clown.

  “How can you say that? How can you blame anything that happened today on yourself?”

  “That devil’s spawn is my mother. Mine. I have the privilege of saying that’s the woman who gave birth to me. That wretched hag who treats innocent young women like you the way she did? That’s the woman who raised me. That’s how I can blame myself.”

  “You are not responsible for her behavior, Mac. Surely by this point in your life, you understand that.” I sat up higher and immediately regretted it. Stabbing pain in my temple reminded me of all the crying I’d done. The dizzy spell that quickly followed reminded me of the food I hadn’t eaten. I closed my eyes and willed the room to stop spinning.

  “I’m going to get you something to eat. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Bossy,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed.

  “Call me what you will, you need food. First some ibuprofen.”

  “Actually, do you have Tylenol? I always think it works better for a headache.”

  “I do. You stay here.” He trotted off toward the bathroom and returned quickly with two little white tablets and a glass of water.

  “You don’t have to stand there and watch me. I’m going to take them.”

  “I was just going to take the glass when you were d
one, smart mouth. But I do want you to drink all that water, please.”

  “I have to admit, this caregiver bit you have going on is kind of sexy.” I gulped the water down and handed him the empty glass. “Thank you.” When he went to take the glass from me, I held on to it until he met my gaze. “Seriously. Thank you. I’m not sure how I got from that apartment to this bed. I’m sure it will all come back to me once I really think about it, but thank you for taking care of me and making sure I made it safely. I’ve been depending on you a lot lately. And you’ve been letting me.” I handed him the glass after I said what I needed to.

  “Because I love you. I want to help you.” He let that sink in for a second and then added, “I’ll be right back with some food.”

  I thought for sure he’d use that opportunity to go into some speech about taking care of me, how I needed to let him handle the hard things for me, some other chest-beating talk like that, so I was pleasantly surprised when he showed the restraint he did.

  Something had changed today. Something wasn’t right in his eyes, and it worried me. I was very concerned that today was the straw that broke the camel’s back for him. He might have decided I was just more trouble than I was worth. Or maybe the things he overheard his mother saying had sunk in while I was sleeping. Perhaps he’d decided I wasn’t what he needed in a partner. I came with a shit ton of baggage, and right on cue, Janet proved that point once again.

  My own mother had sold my personal information for a bump of meth. The stabbing pain returned to my stomach and temples. I scooted down lower in the covers as a wave of icy chills rippled through my body. I completely refused to cry again. Frankly, I was pretty confident I was too dehydrated to form any more tears, even if I cared to.

  I couldn’t let myself dwell on what my mother did. If I made a list of all the times she hurt me throughout my life and mentally played it on repeat, I’d probably never get out of bed in the morning. But I needed to take the advice I’d just given Mac. I was not responsible for that woman’s behavior. I couldn’t allow her to hurt me anymore. She was sick, and she was an addict. Maybe one day, if she decided to get help and go into treatment, she would realize all the times she had hurt me and would find some way to atone for her mistakes. In the meantime, I couldn’t live with that pain defining me. That was just a recipe for a miserable life.