Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Page 13

  “I guess she ran off to become a famous singer, and you stayed back here to be a little angel, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re single. So is she, right? I thought she went nuts when that guy ditched her.”

  I let out a disgusted sigh. “I don’t think that’s why,” I say. Judging by what she was spouting off that night, Trin was coming off something, and under all kinds of pressure from that dickwad manager. “What am I thinking? I’ve got a kid, and she’s complicated as hell. She’s has cameras following her, and a drug problem.”

  “She had a drug problem, right?”

  I give Shane a weary look.

  “You can’t hold that shit against people. Why the hell do you think I landed in this bumfuck little shithole? I burned every bridge back in my old town.”

  “What’d you do?”

  Now Shane is the one shaking his head towards the windshield.

  “Nevermind. It’s none of my business. What’s past is past, right?”

  “Exactly.” He takes his eyes off the road briefly, and raps his knuckles lightly against my temple. “That’s what I’m trying to get through that thick skull of yours.”

  I fling off his hand. “You’re a dumbass.”

  “And you’re the dumbass that’s about to walk off from Trin Sinclaire. The Trin Sinclaire.”

  “I knew her before she was The Trin Sinclaire. She’s not like that for real.” But maybe she is. Hell, I don’t even know her anymore.

  “Yeah. She seemed pretty down to earth when we chatted. You ready, rookie?”

  “I’m not rookie anymore asshole.”

  “My bad.” He grinned at me. “Old habits die hard.”

  That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

  Shane parks the cruiser behind a large truck at 24 Lake View Drive. We’re here to take a report on a robbery, and when we’re invited inside, it’s clear the owner who called in the report was right. This breaking and entering took place weeks ago.

  There’s broken glass from the window above the back door, and tons of water damage, plus dried leaves and other debris blown in. “I don’t care so much about what they took,” the owner explains. “It wasn’t much. An old TV, and some little crap we leave out here, but the insurance adjuster said I had to call you guys first to file a claim.”

  Maybe they didn’t take much, but they left a helluva a mess behind. The small cabin is torn apart.

  “Same thing happened to me last year,” Shane says. He squints one eye and points through large bay window across the lake. “I gotta a little place right over yonder.”

  “Did you ever catch who did it?”

  “Nope, not that we didn’t try.”

  Shane already told me who he suspects, and I’m inclined to agree with him. The string of small time, petty thefts around Misty Flats dried up right around when Martin Stamper got locked up, and coincidentally it looks like they’ve resumed after his very brief, and in my opinion, too brief stay in county.

  What is that now for him, two DUI’s? Three? I guess they’re just going to keep slapping him on the wrist and releasing him back out into the wild until he eventually kills someone.

  Usually we wouldn’t bother to dust for prints, not for a robbery this old, but we take our time picking through for anything that might lead us to Martin Stamper, or whomever else may be responsible.

  The little cabins up around this lake are easy targets. Most of them don’t have much security, and they’re vacant for long stretches. We do drive throughs here on occasion, but most of these places are back from the street, hidden between trees.

  “I’ve been trying to talk Gina into selling that place,” Shane tells me as we depart, heading back towards the station. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth, and we barely ever even come out here anymore.” He nudges me with his elbow. “If you ever need a secluded, private getaway for you and Ms Sinclair, just say the word.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I’m just extending the offer.”

  “My parents have a place up here too, but I don’t think they ever use it that much either. They’ve had it for years.”

  I have a lot of fond memories of that cabin, swimming off the little dock that jutted out from the shore, fishing with my dad from the dented bass boat he still has I think. My sister Becca is quite a bit older than me. She was a teenager when I came along, so I don’t remember spending much time with her out there. My brother Drew is only two years older than me, and we used to build forts, mess around in the woods, normal kid shit. It sure beat sitting inside that cramped cabin with our parents.

  I almost never see Drew anymore, usually around the holidays, but this year he didn’t even bother showing up. He bounced all over the place for a few years after high school, and eventually settled down in Cincinnati of all places with a woman a few years older than him.

  Growing up, Drew had issues. He wasn’t any worse off than most other teenage boys. He got in a few fights, got caught drinking a few times, but if you heard my parents tell the tale, he was the devil incarnate. Up until my recent divorce, Drew was the black sheep of the family. Maybe he still is, but I’m close by for them to chastise personally. If it wasn’t for them wanting to see Rose, I’d gladly cut ties.

  Somehow that unplanned pregnancy, and the subsequent abortion, all got pinned on Trin in their eyes. They never cared for her. She was a troublemaker and a hussy, my mother’s word, not mine. Just like Drew, she wasn’t a bad kid either, but Trin didn’t buy into a lot of that old-timey religion they spouted at that church. She was pretty, brash, and all wrong for me in their opinion.

  But I have some other fond memories of that cabin that don’t involve my family at all. Trin and I used to drive out there all the time. Sneaking off with that key wasn’t too difficult, but it was her idea to go have a copy made.

  We had our first time there, and more times after than I could possibly count. It sure beat making due in the back seat of my Buick. A handful of times we told our parents we were staying with other friends, and spent the night. A few of those times she talked me into going skinny dipping in that lake after dark. Trin talked me into all kinds of shit, but she just has this way about her. She never had to talk too much to persuade me to her way of thinking.

  But I have a child to think about now. Maybe Trin has really turned over a new leaf, changed her ways for real, but maybe she hasn’t. Back then Trin was my whole world, but now my world is different. So is Trin’s. We’re living in separate worlds without a thing in common between us besides the past.

  Chapter 17

  Trin

  Faith came around with Hope the following day. “You gotta take some of that food home with you,” I say. “My fridge is full.”

  She waves her hand. “Ryan will eat it.”

  “You need to take Charity off my hands for tonight too.” My lips curve into a wide smile. “I have company coming over.”

  Faith scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re seeing that piece of crap again after what he did?”

  “Huh?”

  “Kane.”

  “Ugh. Not him.”

  “What was he doing here yesterday?”

  I roll my eyes. “Brent invited him. He was here to talk shop.”

  Faith gives me a dubious look.

  “He’s back in Nashville anyways, I think. I don’t care where the hell he’s at. It’s not him. It’s Gabe.”

  “Who?”

  “Gabe. You know… Gabe. Gabe Barton”

  Her mouth falls open. “The boy you were going to get married to?”

  I nod vigorously. “Yup, but he’s no boy anymore. He’s all man.”

  “And he’s also a married man from what I hear,” she says sharply.

  I shake my head quickly. “No, they got divorced.”

  She presses her lips together into a small pout. “That’s a shame. They have a little girl not much younger than Hope. I wonder what happe
ned?”

  I huff. “We didn’t really get into all that. I’m sure they had their reasons, but if Charity hadn’t interrupted us, I bet we would’ve had sex right here.” I say, tapping my nails against the granite topped kitchen island. “I really need to clean out that hot tub. I’ve never done it in a hot tub before. That’s the only reason people buy those things, isn’t it?”

  Faith’s eyes go wide. “Since when have you two been talking?”

  “Since last night.”

  Her eyes go even wider.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You don’t know what it’s like. I haven’t had sex in forever, and this is Gabe.”

  “I didn’t even know you still had a thing for him.”

  I sigh quietly. “I’ve always had a thing for him. He’s my first, ya know? But I wasn’t about to move in on a married man. I’m not a homewrecking skank.”

  “Maybe this is good,” Faith says. “All those musicians and people you hung around with were bad influences.”

  A comment like that in the past would’ve earned her a dramatic eye roll, but she’s probably right.

  “Speaking of which, I brought you something.” Faith goes to retrieve that something, which was left with her purse in the foyer. She returns with a slim leather bound album. “It’s from your intervention.”

  A loud laugh flies out of my mouth. “You made a scrapbook of my intervention?”

  Faith is such a mom. When she’s not helping Ryan manage that contracting company they started, she’s busy doing lots of mom things, like scrapbooking, and running her daughter here and there to dance lessons, or piano practice. She’s the kind of mom who drops her kid off at the curb outside of school every morning in a minivan. I took her out one day, told her to pick out any car she wanted, and that’s what she chose, a freaking minivan. She said it was practical, since they’re planning on having a few more kids I guess.

  “I thought it might be nice to have around,” Faith says. “In case you’re ever tempted.”

  “I told you I’m not going back to that shit.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you. That’s sweet. Weird, but sweet.” I stare at the book laid flat on the island between us. “Is that letter from mom in there?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I lay my palm on the cover of the album but don’t move to open it. “I should’ve called her.”

  “I thought you went to visit.”

  “I did, but… why was she so shitty with us? She was a shitty mom.”

  Faith sighs quietly. “She raised us the way she was raised.”

  “What kind of excuse is that? You don’t raise Hope the way we were raised.”

  “Mama loved us, and she did what she thought was right. It doesn’t mean it was right.”

  “I guess there’s no sense going on about it now. She’s gone, and that all happened a long time ago.”

  Faith murmurs and nods.

  “Maybe this will be good to hang onto for when I go on the road.”

  “You should take Charity with you.”

  “On tour?” I cackle. “She would drive me crazy, and she would go crazy trapped on that bus.”

  “You could find her something to do.”

  “I’m sure I could, but she’s lookin’ for a boyfriend. I don’t need her falling in with any of those scumbags or weirdos that work those shows, and she’s pretty enough they’d be swarming her.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “But she’s… I don’t know about that.”

  “She’s a grown woman, Faith. There’s someone for everyone, right? Maybe she’ll find some guy that likes to wander around the woods collecting bones and bird nests, but I doubt she’ll find him out on tour.”

  “I’m afraid you’re gonna fall back on old ways by yourself.”

  That thought from her did get an eye roll out of me. “I haven’t even recorded the damn album yet. I’ve got a while before I have to worry about that. A long while.”

  Although I am a little worried about it myself, but that’s far off. In the present I’m floating. I never even let myself dream that I might have another shot with Gabe, but maybe I should try and temper my expectations a bit. It has been a long time. We’re both different people now.

  ∞∞∞

  When I open the door for Gabe later that evening, he’s speechless for a breath before stammering out a compliment on my dress.

  “This old thing? It was just something I grabbed. I have a closet full of crap like this.” While it’s true that I have a huge walk-in closet full of clothes, the black wrap dress I’m wearing wasn’t just something I grabbed at random. I spent a ridiculous amount of time deciding on this high waisted piece that dips down a smidge to show off some cleavage, and gives the illusion of a flatter tummy. Hopefully when he sees the lace and silk I have on beneath, he won’t mind that some of this is illusion.

  If he sees, I remind myself. Maybe we’ll just have coffee and talk, but when he shrugs off his coat and I catch sight of the way his grey sweater fits snug across his shoulder and upper arms, I really hope we do more than talk. The cut of his dark jeans is working pretty well for him too, although I had secretly hoped he would come straight from work. I’ve never had a cop fetish or anything, but seeing him in uniform that handful of times makes me reconsider.

  No, I don’t have a thing for cops, I decide. I have a thing for Gabe, who just happens to be a cop. If he was a chef, I’d probably sit around fantasizing about him in one of those goofy hats.

  “So, how was work? Did you have an exciting day?”

  “Exciting? I’m not sure if I’d go that far. I know you haven’t spent that much time here in recent years, but Trenton really hasn’t changed a whole lot.”

  “There’s a movie theatre here now, and… I guess that’s about it, huh? This place really hasn’t changed.”

  Gabe shakes his head.

  “So what did you do all day? Just sit around twiddling your thumbs, waiting for trouble to break out? Come on. You’ve got to have something. Entertain me.”

  “You sure know how to put a guy on the spot.”

  “I’ve been holed up here, trying to write new songs for weeks. I’m bored stiff.”

  “Hmm. Well, we got a call about a shoplifter down at the grocery store, but it turned out to be some little kid.”

  “Did you haul his ass off to juvy with the sirens blazing?”

  Gabe smiles, flashing his dimples. “Nah. We let him off with a warning.”

  “Did you scare him straight at least?”

  “Tried to.”

  “I used to steal from there all the time. I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but there’s got to be a statute of limitations on that sort of thing, right?”

  “Your secret is safe with me. What did you steal?”

  “Candy, makeup, stuff like that, but I never got caught. No one suspects the holy roller girl with the long hair, in the long skirt. They never looked twice at me.”

  “Just when you think you know a person.”

  But we both know I’ve done a lot worse than snag a Hershey bar and some mascara. “It’s so weird that you’re a cop.”

  “What’s weird about it?”

  “I dunno.”

  “You’re the one on the radio.”

  “Not very much lately.”

  Gabe shrugs. “They seem to play your stuff here anyways. Maybe it’s because you’re a local legend.”

  “Ugh. Legend? I think that’s a little over the top.”

  “What term would you prefer?”

  “None. Hopefully after this next album, people will forget all about me, and I can go back to just being Trin.”

  “You’re quitting?”

  “I think so. I’d hang it up right now if I could, but I already signed for one more.”

  “What are you going to do instead?”

  “I have no idea, but I’ve got some time to decide. I’ve got another year and
half, maybe two years before this next tour is done, depending on when I get my ass back to the studio. Maybe I’ll open a grocery store.”

  “You can call me when some kid tries to sneak off without paying.”

  “I guess it pays to have friends in the right places. How’s your little girl?”

  “Good. I think she’s doing okay with it all, but she’s back and forth.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “With Leah’s schedule and mine, it’s different days, but she’s doing good. It’s all a little new for her.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Not long, but we’ve been separated for… nine months?”

  “What happened?” I shake my head quickly. “That’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay. It was a lot of things. Pretty much the same shit that happens to everyone that gets married at twenty.”

  I wonder if it’s what would’ve happened to us if I’d done things differently.

  A sharp buzz sounds from the front foyer. I have no trespassing signs, and reporters usually don’t venture to my front gate. From my understanding, they’d all packed it up after the wake, but it’s hard to say. “Let me see who this is.”

  It turned out to be a delivery driver with two large, insulated boxes addressed to me, courtesy of Brent Gibson. I can pretty much already guess what was inside. “I didn’t think it would actually be you that answered the door,” the driver says with a big smile.

  “Yup. It’s just me.”

  He asks for a picture, which I oblige. With Gabe watching through the open doorway while I pose with the guy, I feel kind of silly, but at least I’ve fixed myself up a bit. You never know where these pictures end up.

  “What is all this?” Gabe asks, hefting the boxes up for me without being asked once the door is closed behind me.

  “My guess is food. This is Brent’s not so subtle way of telling me it’s time to go on a diet.”

  Gabe scoffs.

  “I kind of let myself go while I was on vacation with Charity, and around the holidays”

  “You look perfect.”

  I roll my eyes, and start back towards the kitchen. He deposits the boxes on the kitchen island, and I start to tear into them. “I was right,” I say as I pull back the top flaps to reveal neat stacks of pre portioned meals packed in dry ice. “Ugh. I’ll save these for New Year’s day.” I pause. “Wait. Tomorrow is New Year’s day isn’t it?”