Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Read online

  As soon as I go to drop Rose off, and spot an unfamiliar Mercedes backing out of the driveway at our old place, which is going to be Leah’s place now, I’m full of rage and I wonder how drama free this is going to turn out to be after all.

  I’ve never laid eyes on this guy before. He’s older than I anticipated, not that I get a real good look at him. All it takes is a glance to see he’s too old for Leah, and the fact that he’s swung by for a visit says it all, he wasn’t just a work friend.

  I’ve got to let it go, but damn if that doesn’t rankle.

  I get Rose out of her car seat. She wraps her arms around my neck. “Wanna hundred kisses,” she says.

  I don’t know where this little phrase came from, and I don’t give her a hundred, but I lay about twenty or so on her as I carry her up the flagstone path, her giggling the whole way.

  “You’re early,” Leah says when she opens the door. Actually I’m not. In fact I’m about five minutes late. I almost wonder if she didn’t time this so I would catch sight of her friend pulling away.

  I hate saying goodbye to Rose, but I remind myself I’d be just about leaving for work anyways.

  Rose hasn’t questioned any of it yet. She’s made no mention that sometimes she sleeps here, sometimes she sleeps at my new place. With Leah and me working opposite shifts for so long, I don’t think she was ever that used to seeing us together anyways.

  I hand Rose off, but our daughter isn’t very interested in being held. She wiggles around until Leah sets her down, then Rose shoots off through the living room.

  “Isn’t this guy married?” I ask in a low voice.

  Leah tilts her head to the side, and gives me a tiny smirk. “Not for much longer.”

  “You couldn’t even wait until we went to sign the papers?”

  “You made your choice, Gabe. What I do isn’t your concern anymore.”

  I held my hands up. “You’re right, but I’d appreciate if you wait to bring Rose around this guy. She’s already going through enough right now.”

  “She likes Roger just fine, and he’s good with kids. He’s a pediatrician. He has a few of his own too, but they’re older.”

  My jaw drops. “You’ve already been bringing Rose around him? It hasn’t even been two weeks since-”

  “Roger is a part of my life now.”

  “You are unbelievable.”

  “You made your choice, Gabe.”

  “And it looks like I made the right one.”

  Rose wanders back over. I give her another kiss, and a hug. I tell her I love her, and she says it back. “I’ll see you in a few days, baby girl.”

  ∞∞∞

  I’m still seething hours later. “I have never felt more fucking… helpless in my whole life. She gets to parade whoever she wants around our daughter, and I just have to sit there and take it,” I say. “It isn’t right. I thought Leah had more common sense than this.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go rearrange this guys face? I’d cover for you,” Shane says. “I’d swear on a bible he threw the first punch.”

  Part of me wouldn’t mind, but what good would it do? Between this and running into Trin earlier, I’m in a foul fucking mood. “I’m gonna cruise up main, and see what I see. You good out this way?”

  Shane gives me a little salute, and starts his cruiser, presumably to turn around and watch for speeders.

  Maybe I could find something else with better hours. I don’t want to, but Rose is going to need some stability in her life, which I’m starting to see she’s not going to get from Leah.

  How was I so wrong about her?

  The same way I was wrong about Trin, I guess.

  I’m starting to think I have god awful taste in women.

  Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I idle up main. A familiar, rusted-out tan pickup turns six car lengths out in front of me. His break lights flash red for a second, then he cruises along slower than need be, drifting back and forth a bit. The pickup almost sideswipes a car parked in front of the post office, and I turn on my flashing lights.

  First I radio Shane for backup, then I start the dashcam recorder. The last time Martin Stamper got brought in, he tried to say Shane roughed him up. I doubt that’s the case, but Marty probably could use a smack upside the head. Those couple of DUI convictions haven’t done much to stop him from getting behind the wheel drunk.

  It’s one of those things I don’t have an ounce of patience for. My first month working in Charlotte, I got called to an accident involving a drunk driver. Over three years later, and that shit still haunts me, and the man responsible is still sitting behind bars. He’s gonna be there a long time, not that it’ll do a damn thing to bring back that woman and her two kids he killed.

  I go ahead and run his plates while I wait for Shane to arrive just to confirm what I already suspected. Stamper is driving on a suspended license.

  I get out, slam my door shut, and stride up as he rolls down his window. “You mind shutting off your vehicle,” I say.

  “Come on man, I live right around the corner.”

  “I know where you live, and I know where you’re coming from. Turn off the engine, and step out of the vehicle.”

  Shane strolls up right as Stamper is blowing into the breathalyzer. It’s just a formality. He’s barely standing upright, and I’m not going to bother wasting my time giving him a field sobriety test.

  “Point two five.” Shane lets loose a low whistle. “You goin’ for a record, Marty? I’m not sure if I should take you down to the station, or call for an ambulance.”

  “This is bullshit,” he slurs. “I live close enough to walk.”

  “Maybe you should’ve walked then,” I say. “I believe you know how this part goes, Stamper. Turn around. Arms behind your back.”

  “This is bullshit,” he mutters again, but he doesn’t resist as I read him his rights and place him under arrest.

  Shane gives the back, underinflated tire of his truck a light kick. “I’ll call and have this rust bucket towed.”

  “Aw, come on, man. Let me call my old lady. She’ll come get it. Don’t make me pay to get this thing out of impound.”

  “Sorry, Marty. It’s procedure,” Shane says with a gleeful smile. He claps me on the back as I lead Stamper over to my cruiser. “Alright, rookie. Have fun with all that paperwork.”

  I get Stamper inside, and close the door before I call Shane an asshole.

  “Hopefully he doesn’t puke again,” Shane calls out over his shoulder. “You were off last time I took him in, otherwise I would’ve had you clean it up.”

  Stamper doesn’t puke, and I sip on a cup of coffee at the station while I fill out the paperwork. Sometimes the thought of giving this up doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice. I could find something nine to five, or maybe start applying for another force outside of Trenton. I always wanted to be a cop, but I’ve got to think about Rose. Me sitting on graveyard for the next several years isn’t right for her.

  With Stamper sleeping it off in a holding cell, and all the formality of paperwork complete, I head back out. I spot Shane’s cruiser parked near the center of town. I don’t really feel like shooting the shit with him right now.

  The bars aren’t closed yet so I circle around a bit. I turn on the radio, trying to drown out my thoughts, and wouldn’t you know it, Trin is crooning. “All of me, loves all of you. All those little things you do.” I quickly turn it back off.

  Trin was one of the least romantic people I’ve ever met. If I said something sweet to her, she’d laugh. The time I told her, “We were made for each other,” she rolled her eyes, and said, “I love you, Gabe, even though you’re a mega pussy.”

  That’s the Trin I remember. Maybe she writes all those songs about that pretty boy she sings with now.

  A low to the ground sports car flies past me in the opposite direction. I make a quick U-turn and flick on my lights. I bet they’re going at least eighty in a thirty-five. Luckily they decide to pu
ll over. I’m not sure if my cruiser could keep up with a ride like this.

  I run the plates and when a familiar face pops up, I swear I almost want to drive off and let her go without a word. Cursing under my breath, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel while my eyes flick across the screen. A local address comes up, along with a half dozen others in far flung locations. Her record is as clean as a whistle.

  I already know before I climb out I’ll probably be letting her off with a warning as long as she’s sober. Usually I wouldn’t for someone going that fast, but hell… this is Trin.

  Chapter 7

  Trin

  I eventually made my way out of the toy store, and rushed home to change for Hope’s birthday party. I got all the way back before I realized I didn’t have any wrapping paper. I really am a shitty aunt, but I don’t have time to run back out now. If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late. She’s six years old. Six year olds don’t care about wrapping paper. They just care about the gift, right?

  Faith’s wide driveway is already crowded. My car bottoms out as I pull in, and I wince. Why did I get this ridiculous car in the first place? It’s so fucking impractical, and I hardly ever get to drive it anyways. I bought it a few years back, right after my second album when the money really started rolling in.

  Money can’t buy happiness, everyone knows that, but it sure can distract you from unhappiness for a while. If I hadn’t bought all those stupid cars, and houses, and took all those trips, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck in this position right now. I’d be able to buy my way out of that contract, and I’d be sitting pretty.

  One more album. One more tour.

  Maybe I can move to some far off country, some place where the locals have never heard the name Trin Sinclair. I’ll learn a new language. I’ll take up a trade. Maybe I’ll get a dog, or a cat. Hell, I’ll get one of each.

  I scramble out of my car with some difficulty, and snatch up the three bags stuffed with toys from the trunk. I didn’t even think to get her a card, but six year olds don’t care about cards, do they? In either case, she’s not getting one from me, because I’m a shitty, forgetful aunt.

  My sister’s husband Ryan answers the door. He’s as big as a linebacker, kind of terrifying looking if you don’t know him, but he’s a huge teddy bear according to Faith. “Sorry I’m late,” I say.

  “You’re not that late.” Ryan takes the bags from me. “Holy shit. What is all this?”

  “I don’t know what Hope likes, but I left the receipts in there so you can get her whatever.”

  “Oh, right. Her birthday.” He gives me a weird smile, and fans his arm out for me to come in. Ryan closes the door, and walks behind me. “Everyone is already downstairs.”

  I get halfway down the steps when it strikes me that it is awfully quiet for a little kids birthday party, and there are no decorations anywhere. When I round the corner, I spot a handful of familiar faces, and one stranger. There is also one person there I never expected to see at my sister’s place. I had kind of hoped to encounter him again. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Kane shrugs and gives me a tight, nervous grimace.

  I stare around at everyone seated in a circle. “Is this an intervention?” I laugh so hard tears form in my eyes. “It is, isn’t it? Oh, my god. Are you guys actually interventioning me?”

  Ryan stands behind me with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s so wide that he takes up the entire doorway, and I can’t get past him.

  “Trin, sit down and let us talk to you for a minute,” my dad says.

  Shaking my head to myself, I take the only seat available next to Kane. “Why are you here?” I ask him. “What the hell is he doing here?” I ask everyone in the room.

  There are both my sisters, my brother, my dad and his wife, Conner, Steph, and Nolan. A middle aged woman with deep, black hair and some colorful beaded necklace folds her hands on her lap smiles at me. “Hi, Trin. My name is Marie-”

  “I know who you are,” I snap. “You’re the one they’re paying to host this little shindig. I’ve seen this show on TV. I know how this crap goes. I’m sorry to disappoint you all, but I’m already clean, so I’m not going to rehab.” I laugh, and cross one denim clad leg over the other. “This is bullshit. I can’t believe you cancelled Hope’s birthday party for this nonsense,” I say to Faith.

  “Her birthday isn’t until February.”

  I bark a laugh towards the ceiling. “Oh, right. I should probably know that, but I didn’t forget because I’m high. I’m just a shitty aunt. I haven’t had a thing, not even a beer for almost four days.”

  “There are a lot of people here who care about you, Trin, and they’ve each prepared something they’d like to read,” Marie says.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Kane, ignoring this woman.

  “I care about you too.” Kane tries to grab my hand.

  “No you don’t! You don’t give a shit about me, and I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re out. Brent promised me. You’re not going to be on the next album.”

  “What!? Why the hell not?”

  “Because I hate you.”

  “I thought he was your boyfriend,” Faith says, clearly confused.

  “That’s all fake. That’s for the label, you know for… appearances. He’s my fake boyfriend.”

  “It wasn’t all fake. I considered what we had more of an open relationship,” Kane says. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t continue a professional relationship.”

  “Shut up. I can’t believe you showed up here to ambush me.”

  Kane crosses his arms, and angles his body away from me with a scoff.

  “Can we just skip past all this crap? I’m not going to rehab again. Nothing you say in your little letters is going to change my mind. I don’t need to go back to that place.”

  Nolan rubs his palms on his thighs, leans forward, and clears his throat. “Trin, last week you were-”

  “I was high. I get it, but I’m not high now, am I? As soon as you left, I got rid of everything I had in the house, and I sweated it out. I got it all out of my system, and now I’m fine.”

  The truth is, I’m embarrassed about that run in with Nolan. I’ve known him a long time, and he’s always seemed sort of… fatherly to me in a way. Maybe like a much older brother. In either case, I’ve turned over a new leaf, and this is all unnecessary.

  “So you were experiencing detox symptoms?” Marie asks.

  My laughter carries around the room.

  “Withdraw from opiates without the care of medical supervision can be dangerous,” Marie adds with a touch of concern in her voice. Fake concern. She doesn’t know me. She’s getting paid to sit there and act like she gives a shit.

  “Well, I lived to tell the tale, didn’t I? I’m sitting in front of you all, living and breathing, listening to this rubbish, aren’t I? I know what I’m doing. Ask my boyfriend sitting over here.” I hook my thumb in Kane’s direction. “I’ve come off this shit before on my own, and in either case, it’s already done.”

  Kane starts to laugh, and bumps his shoulder against mine. “You’re past the barfing, and the shakes. Now you’ve moved on to the bitchy phase, huh?”

  “Shut up, Kane.”

  Oh, look. Now my sister is crying, and even my dad. Holy fuck, why are they doing this to me?

  “Addiction is a complex issue,” Marie says. “It involves much more than physical dependence.”

  “I’m not going back to rehab to talk about my feelings. I don’t need to go back to that place.”

  “Will you please just listen to what we have to say?” Faith asks.

  I don’t answer her. It seems like a rhetorical question anyways with Ryan blocking the only way out.

  Marie asks who would like to go first, and Conner is quick to volunteer. I glare at him the entire time he outlines all the ways my addiction has affected him, namely my inability to get to stage on time, and all the shit that goes on behind the scenes to make it appear t
o the audience that I’m not fucked up. At the end of his lengthy spiel, he asks if I would be willing to go to treatment.

  “I already told you the answer is no. I blame you for all this, Conner. What happens on the road, stays on the road, right? Isn’t that an unwritten rule? Hmm?”

  Kane nods beside me. At least one other person in the room gets it.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Conner asks.

  “You really want me to spell it out?” I ask pointedly, widening my eyes at him.

  Steph’s hands splay out over her pregnant belly. “What is she talking about, Conner?”

  “Yeah, what am I talking about, Conner? Why don’t you tell your wife what I’m talking about.”

  Conner lifts his shoulders. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  I jiggle my foot, and pick at my cuticles. “The brunette with the ugly red boots, remember her?”

  Steph smacks Conner’s arm hard.

  “Trin, what the hell are you talking about?” Conner asks me with huge eyes. “What brunette?”

  “In Atlanta, I saw you-”

  “That was my cousin, you idiot.” Conner turns to face his wife. “Remember, I told you Leesha was coming to see me in Atlanta? Remember? We hung out after the show.”

  Steph waved her hand through the air. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Sorry I hit you.”

  “It’s okay. You know I would never cheat on you, Steph. Never ever. I love you.” They kiss, and keep kissing. A long, wet kiss, with tongue. I make a gagging noise, and they break apart.

  “My bad,” I say. “Alright. Are we finished here?”

  Nope. We were just getting started.

  It goes on and on and on. All I can do is sit there, shake my head, and laugh under my breath towards a piece of fuzz on the carpet.

  The hardest to listen to is my dad. He sniffles through the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell not going to look up to watch him cry.

  My younger sister Charity’s was kind of humorous. It read more like a book report. I’m pretty sure she got most of it from my Wikipedia page. It started out - “Trinity Adah Sinclair is an american singer and songwriter, born in Trenton, South Carolina...”