Last Good Man: A Crown Creek Novel Page 7

  I shook my head. "I think... I'll have to ask Willa."

  Chief Crowthers chuckled. "Good call, son. Letting your woman call the shots is the first rule of a happy marriage." His eyes darkened. "I wish my daughter's beau would get that through his thick skull."

  I kept my mouth shut through the dangerous silence that followed, and stumbled gratefully from the car once we pulled up alongside my truck. "I told my boys to leave it," the Chief informed me. "Last thing you need is that beauty getting dinged up in the impound lot." I thanked him, and then thanked him again when he insisted on following me home to make sure I drove safe. Then sat there with his interior lights on and watched as I walked to my front door. Then waved. Then waved again as I fumbled for my keys and unlocked it when I realized my parents weren't home. Then honked his horn and waved one more time as I stepped in through the door.

  I closed the door and let out a long, slow exhale once I heard him pull away. "Shit," I breathed. "Shit shit shit shit.... Shiiiit."

  The whole town was convinced that Willa Harlow and I were starry-eyed in love with each other. When the truth couldn't be more opposite.

  I scratched my arm absently. Okay, maybe it wasn't the complete opposite. I had to admit that over the last forty-eight hours, my feelings about Willa had... changed. I still didn't trust her. And she was clearly still wary of me too. But the simmering hostility had cooled down. Somewhat. Enough for there to be room for other, less easily definable, feelings to emerge.

  She was grateful to me. As well she should be. But... I was also grateful to her. She hadn't called me out, the way I fully expected she would. With that interview, she'd been handed a prime opportunity to make me look terrible in front of the whole town and everyone we knew. But instead of grabbing it with both hands and running it in for a touchdown, she'd played along. She'd helped me. When I bent down and whispered in her ear, begging her not to expose my out-of-control lie, I'd fully expected her to slap my face and then laugh. But she hadn't. She'd helped me when I asked her to. I hadn't even had a chance to explain yet, but she'd done it. She'd covered my ass.

  I had to admit, I hadn't expected that. Not at all. She'd caught me by surprise when I thought there was nothing about her that could ever surprise me. And that was causing another, less easily definable feeling about Willa to emerge.

  We'd made a pretty good team during the interview. She'd jumped right in when I started losing it and bolstered me back up again. Just like one of my teammates out on the high school football field. Just like a friend would do for a friend.

  I kind of... liked her now.

  That was... disturbing.

  Still scratching, I leadenly dragged myself up the stairs. I wanted my bed, but I needed a shower. I stripped, already half asleep, and stepped under the spray, letting the water pound my neck and shoulders as I stood with my head bowed low. Warm water circled the drain. I stared at it like it had some hidden meaning, my mind too exhausted to feel anything other than relief.

  I'd finally told her.

  It was only a few minutes until visiting hours were over for the night when I finally got a chance to talk with Willa alone. Roxane and her cameraman had just packed up, and Chrissi had volunteered to walk Mrs. Harlow down to the vending machines.

  "I've got some explaining to do," I said in a rush.

  She'd fixed me with those dark eyes of hers and I almost lost my nerve again. But enough was enough. "They were loading you into the ambulance," I said, breaking eye contact so I wouldn't have to see the way she flinched at the word. "And weren't going to let me ride with you unless I was family. And I'd promised Liam I'd made sure you were safe."

  "You did?"

  I hesitated, then gave in to the need to reach out and cover her good hand with mine. "I did." I took another deep breath. "So I lied and said we were engaged. I just... I wanted to keep an eye on you." I looked up at her guarded expression and confessed the whole truth of it. "I know we have our history, but I made a promise and fuck it, it didn't feel right to leave you all alone. So I made up the quickest lie that would let me stay with you." I grimaced and drew my hand away. "And it kind of got out of hand after that."

  She closed her eyes. I watched her mouth work as she struggled to find something to say and was again struck with the perfect curve of her Cupid's bow. She'd acted beautifully during the interview. Beautifully and... too well. The act felt real. I’d liked her hands on my body, soothing me. I’d liked the worshipful expression on her face as she looked up at me while the camera was rolling. I'd started coming up with ways to make her look at me that way again and again before I could stop myself. I was trying to hold on to what I knew about her, but the harder I squeezed, the more it slipped through my fingers, and I realized I barely knew her at all. All day long she'd been surprising me.

  Then she'd opened her eyes and did it again. "Well?" she sighed. "I'd probably have done the same thing."

  I snapped my eyes back open as my shower ran cold. Had I fallen asleep standing up? I blinked as the memory of confessing floated away and I realized that even though I was dead tired, I felt lighter than I had in a long time.

  The water swirling off me slipped away down the drain. And with it went the last shreds of hatred I had for Willa Harlow.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cooper

  After my shower, I collapsed into bed, thinking that sleep would overtake me in seconds. But I was too keyed up to settle down. Overtired to the point of buzzing, I rolled over and batted the air until my hand connected with the phone charger that had slipped between my nightstand and my bed. I plugged in my phone by feel, intending to decompress with some mindless scrolling once it charged enough to come back to life again. I stared at the black screen until my home screen came up.

  Eight new texts and four phone calls since it had died at the hospital around dinner time. But more importantly, there was one new email.

  Sitting up, I exhaled sharply and opened it, hoping like hell that not too much time had passed since it was sent.

  * * *

  from: Trishisadish@mail.com

  to: CooperGrant4@valleyu.edu

  date: Tue, Jun 19 at 7:23 PM

  subject: Re: 421 Mill Street

  Cooper,

  Yes, the house next to the jewelry store is still available. I'm available to show it tomorrow afternoon after four. Please print the attached rental application and bring it with you. Thanks, Trish Collins, owner.

  * * *

  I hissed in relief and leaped from the bed.

  Finally.

  I turned on the WiFi and hit print. For a moment, I considered leaving it down there in the printer until the morning. It gave me a small, cheap thrill to imagine my father's surprise when he saw it lying there. He wasn't the only one in this house who could keep secrets.

  But my anxious excitement won out in the end. Even though I was exhausted to the point of hallucinating, I still stumbled out of bed and went downstairs to retrieve it and fill it out. I wanted it to be all ready and filled out for the showing. I wasn't going to screw this up.

  The dark house rang with a heavy, unlived-in silence as I walked through the living room, relying on muscle memory to get me to the back of the house where my dad's office, and the printer, was located. It was close to two in the morning, but neither of my parents were home. That wasn't odd, especially not lately. My father pretended his erratic schedule was in service to his work, even though he had long ago delegated the late-night clogged-toilet calls from tenants to his fleet of property managers. And my mother had lately been sleeping at her "studio" several nights a week, claiming that when "the muse" took hold of her, she was forced to stay holed up painting for days on end, but I knew it was just an excuse to stay far enough removed from my father's comings and goings to maintain plausible deniability.

  Lying, cheating, and secrets. I'd spent so long fighting against them, and for what? Nothing changed. I was the only one who s
eemed bothered by my father's infidelity, just like I'd been the only one who'd objected to Willa's when I caught her cheating on Liam. At least Liam had broken it off with Willa when I'd brought him the truth. My mother, on the other hand, she did nothing. I'd spent so much energy trying to convince her to leave him, but she still stayed.

  So instead, I was going to leave.

  My dad's office printer hummed to life. I stood there in the middle of the room with my skin tingling as I watched the application inch its way onto the tray.

  The room suddenly flooded with light. It took me a few befuddled moments to realize the rocking of the printer had jostled his desk so much that his mouse jiggled, bringing the screen to life.

  His email was open.

  I wasn't going to look. I didn't want to know.

  I looked.

  Hot anger roused me from my exhausted stupor and I leaned in to read the most recent unread email. It was from SandyCandy1972 and was sent this morning. The subject line was a long string of Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: that ended with "When can we meet?"

  The leaden ball in my stomach made it feel like it was sinking right down to the floor. I balled my fist, slamming it into my thigh. Why was I surprised? Why was I... sad? Was I really so hopelessly, naively stupid that I'd thought he stopped? He never stopped. Goddammit, why was I sad?? With a giant, gulping breath, I pushed the useless rage back down again and bent to read the string of emails.

  He sent the first one. Once again, I wondered why that mattered, like it would be somehow more excusable if Sandy had been the one to pursue him. But he sent it right here from his work email, asking if he could see her again. And signed it, Fred Grant.

  No shame. No regard for the "good name" he had here in town. He wasn't even bothering to hide it. Why should he? The only person who was bothered by his cheating was me. I could print out this email right now and bring it to my mother and she would still excuse it. Any anger she felt would be directed at me for meddling. For invading his privacy. There would be no anger at my dad for breaking his marriage vows a million times over.

  I grimaced as I read through the chain. Who was Sandy? A drunken one-night stand that he was pathetically pursuing? Or a long-term affair he'd been hiding in plain sight for years? It made no difference who she was, really. He would continue to cheat. And my mother would continue to turn a blind eye, choosing comfort over dignity.

  I snatched the rental application from the paper tray and scanned it. I needed to get out of this house. Swinging rent on my own - even in a crappy two-bedroom cottage next door to a failing jewelry store with dusty rings in the window - would be tough with only the part-time work I could snag at the bar helping Ethan's cousin Taylor during busy season. But I had savings. And more importantly, I had my name. I might know that being Fred Grant's son was nothing to be proud of, but the rest of this town had no clue. In Crown Creek, the last name Grant made people perk up. It was, as my mother always declared after she was two bottles deep into her Chardonnay, "a good name. One that means something."

  My father had a good name, so who cared if he was a good man?

  I stood there a minute. Then leaned down and deleted Sandy's reply. Then moused over and clicked to empty his trash.

  That was petty, but it felt good. Fuck him. I went back up to my room and fell asleep almost instantly.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cooper

  My fully charged phone buzzed on my nightstand. Still dead asleep, I grabbed it on reflex, then fell back to sleep.

  When it buzzed in my hand, I jerked awake again and blinked at the Caller ID before hitting the answer button.

  "'Lo?" I mumbled as my eyes slipped closed again. God, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Oof, too soon, Cooper. "What's up?"

  "Sorry." Liam sounded tinny and far away. "Were you asleep?"

  I heard a ding and garbled voices and climbed up another rung on the ladder to consciousness. I flung my arm up and over my eyes. "Are you on the train?"

  "Yeah, sorry man. I just caught your interview and wanted to call."

  I sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake. "You caught my... what?"

  He chuckled at my obvious shock. "My man!" he shouted over the din of the New York subway. "You and Willa played the part a bit too well. Instead of high school football, you should have done drama club." I couldn't help but note the malicious glee in his voice. "You've gone viral."

  But I was too foggy to understand what he was saying. I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at the screen like it had any answers and was shocked to see that it was late in the afternoon. I'd slept for over fourteen hours. Rubbing my hand briskly through my hair, I tried to pull my thoughts together.

  "We've gone viral," I repeated stupidly, then gave up on acting like I knew what the hell was going no. "What?" I repeated.

  There was a hiss and a pop of static and for a second I thought I'd lost him as he traveled underground. But then his voice hit my ear again, as loud and clear as if he was there in the room with me. "...think it was the story about the ring that cinched it. Some idiot even started a GoFundMe for you to get her a ring that fits."

  "Jesus." I rubbed my eyes. And then my face. And then the back of my neck. "Jesus," I repeated. I've lost my powers of speech. "Jesus," I added one more time for good measure.

  Liam, to his credit, didn't go in for the obvious crack about me being a dumb jock stereotype, even though I was clearly giving him some serious fodder. He just fell silent along with me as we both processed what the hell this meant.

  "Yeah," he finally said after a long while. "It's kind of insane when you think about it for too long. These people who never even met you are so invested in your fake engagement that they want to pay for you to get Willa a really nice ring." He whistled through his teeth. "Hey, maybe you could use the money to move out?"

  Liam was well aware of my search for rentals, and how hard it was to find a place in this town that wouldn't have the father I was trying to escape as the landlord. And I had to admit, the idea was more than tempting. I glanced over at the rental application still sitting there on my nightstand and considered.

  But no. "No, I need to refund that." I gritted my teeth. "Wait, how much money has it raised?"

  "Eight hundred dollars, last I checked."

  "Jesus."

  "Goal is three thousand."

  "I definitely need to refund that though. Right? Like I know I really should, but it'd kind of come in handy." I shook my head. "No, I have to give it back." Then hesitated. "Right?"

  Liam burst out laughing. "Do whatever you want, man. You're the fucking viral sensation, not me." I heard a ding and then the swoosh of doors opening, and it suddenly got a lot harder to hear him, but that didn't matter because he'd started yelling at me anyway. "Here I'm the one who moves to New York for his career and you're the one who ends up famous! Ass!"

  I laughed. It felt good to laugh. I missed the sarcastic fucker. "Yup, me and Willa conspired to teach your snobby ass a lesson. That's what you get for moving away, ass!"

  "So how is she doing?"

  "Aside from not having a ring?" Liam laughed. "She's... pretty tough," I had to concede.

  "You going to see her today?"

  "We're fake-engaged. I kind of have to, don't I?"

  "Put me on FaceTime. You forgot to do that yesterday.”

  ”I forgot... a lot of things yesterday." I pulled my phone away and looked at the clock on the screen again. "Shit, visiting hours are running out. I gotta go, I slept too long."

  Liam must have emerged from the subway by now, because in the background was the blare of horns and traffic. Sounded awful. "Of course you did. That's sort of your thing."

  "I need my beauty sleep. You should try it some time. Might make you less hideous."

  "Keep telling yourself that," he snapped. "And FaceTime me. Remember. Don't make me come all the way back up there just to kick your ass. I want a call from her hospital
room. You have one hour."

  I nodded and went over to my dresser and pulled out a clean pair of jeans. "On my way," I agreed. "Leaving right now." Liam said goodbye, and then I hung up so I could pull on a new shirt, and then glanced back at the rental application.

  One hour was more than enough time to fit in a showing and still make it to Reckless Falls in under an hour. I grabbed my keys and headed out to the house by the jewelry store with my fingers crossed.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Fifteen

  Willa

  Recovery was painful. And stupid.

  And very, very boring.

  My mother had brought me a stack of books from the library. But with the frequent interruptions from the nurses taking my vitals, not to mention the constant pinging and hissing and electronic beeping that filled the air like birdsong, I was finding it impossible to sustain my train of thought for too long. I gave up on reading after twenty minutes of staring at the same page and logged onto Facebook for some mindless scrolling. Which worked to distract me for a few minutes spent reading through the well-wishes posted on my wall. But I had to close it when the wedding questions started. Oh yeah...uh...