All for This (26 page)

“I can’t believe I used to be jealous of you.” I shake my head slowly. “Now I just feel sorry for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a single mom? At least I’m not some whore who got knocked up with a rocker’s babies.”

“I feel sorry for you because you’re ugly, Meredith.”

She snorts. “Look who’s talking.”

“Oh, no. You’re plenty beautiful on the outside. Anyone can see that.” I put my hand on the knob and pull the door open. “But inside, you’re as ugly as they come. That’s why Max doesn’t want you.”

Her face blossoms red. “Get out.”

B
RADY’S IS
crowded tonight. Everyone who’s here visiting family for the holidays fills the bars to escape them.

I scan the crowd, but before I spot Will, Liz grabs my forearm and drags me to the dance floor.

I raise a brow as she wraps her arms behind my neck. “No offense, but my years of crushing on you came to an end when I fell in love with your sister.”

She snorts. “This isn’t about you, Max. Get over yourself.”

I follow her eyes to the other side of the bar, where Sam is watching us with an uncharacteristic amount of jealousy on his face. “I see.” Not that I’m terribly surprised. Sam’s had a thing for Liz for quite a while. “So what’s happening between you two?”

“Nothing.” She closes another inch between us and leans her head on my shoulder. “He’s not what I’m looking for.”

I lock eyes with Sam and raise a brow in silent question. The fact that he shrugs and walks away is more telling than he knows. Sam’s never been shy about staking his claim, but the way he feels about Liz has evolved over the last few months.

“Can you imagine what would have happened if it weren’t for Hanna?” she asks. “Would those casual dates have turned into something more?” She removes her arms from around my neck and shudders softly as we leave the dance floor. “No offense. It’s just that, these days, you feel more like a brother than a potential screw.”

That makes me grin. “Damn. If you’d told me two years ago that you saw me as a ‘potential screw,’ it’s fair to say things would have been
much
different between us.”

She groans, and Cally hands her a drink. “And then I’d be the one dealing with Meredith’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Cally says, “and maybe
you’d
be the one with amnesia.”

I frown. “What do you mean, she’d be the one with amnesia?”

“Oh, who knows,” Cally says, “but there will always be part of me that suspects Meredith was the one who pushed Hanna down the stairs.”

Liz shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think Max needs to hear your crazy conspiracy theories.”

“The one who pushed her down the stairs? Are you saying the accident wasn’t an accident? Are you saying someone pushed her?”

Cally’s face goes blank. Then she mutters a curse under her breath. “I thought he knew.”

“Knew what?” The women just stare at me, so my voice holds warning when I say, “One of you, tell me.”

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Cally says. “None of us was there except Hanna, and Nix says Hanna will probably never remember that day, but the nature and extent of her injuries indicated foul play.”

“Like someone pushing her down the stairs.”
Jesus.
Why did Hanna never tell me this?

“And maybe like someone knocking her around a little before they pushed her.”

Liz winces. I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. Because I know who was at Hanna’s house the night of the accident.

When Meredith climbs my front steps, I’m waiting at the front door, my arms folded across my chest. The days are short and the streetlights are already on even though it’s barely seven. They throw just enough light on her face for me to see the confusion on her face.

“Where’s Claire?” she asks.

“She’s sleeping.” I don’t budge from my spot.

“Well, move over. I want to get her.”

“I don’t think I want her going home with you.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “You can’t keep my daughter from me.”

“I’m pretty sure the police would have my back on this if they knew what you did to Hanna.”

“I seriously doubt the police care about some stupid drama. I don’t even think I care about it anymore.”

“Assault doesn’t fall into the same category as ‘stupid drama.’”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Hanna’s accident. Her fall down the stairs? You went to her house that night. I know because you came to the gym afterward and mentioned you’d been there. Then you left town for two weeks. I’m guessing with a guilty conscience.”

“The only thing I feel guilty about was not acting on my suspicions that she was cheating on you. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she was always mentally somewhere else when she was next to you. I only felt guilty that I’d screwed up too much for you to take me seriously when I told you about my suspicions.”

“She never cheated on me.”

“Just because she was keeping you in limbo about the engagement doesn’t mean it wasn’t cheating.”

“We were broken up,” I growl. She stumbles back and grabs the porch rail, so I soften my voice when I say, “No one knew, but we were broken up.”

She blinks at me. “You deserve better than that.”

I wave away her objection, trying to get us back to the point at hand. “You’re telling me you went to confront Hanna and the same night she happened to fall down the stairs and get bruised up like someone was beating on her?”

“I’m telling you I’d never do anything like that, and you’re a fucking asshole for thinking I would.” She rolls her shoulders back and lifts her chin. “Now move aside. I want my daughter.”

She pushes past me and into the house, and I let her. What else can I do? Claire is her daughter, and I have no evidence that my accusation is true. I can’t quite wrap my mind around the idea of Meredith using her fists when she prefers words, dirty looks, and carefully crafted manipulations.

When I enter the house, she’s buckling Claire into the car seat.

“You all deserve each other. You deserve Hanna and she deserves her cheater asshole baby daddy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone knows he’s still screwing Vivian Payne. Everyone but Hanna. Hell, if she just looked at the magazines from the week she was in the hospital, she’d know what he was doing in London. But, hey, maybe none of you care about something as silly as
fidelity
.”

“Meredith,” I begin, but she avoids my eyes and pushes past me as she takes our daughter to her car. “Please stop,” I call.

She ignores me, climbing into the driver’s seat and pulling away without a word.

The Day of Hanna’s Accident

H
ANNA’S CURVES
slide under my soapy hands. Every sweet moan that passes her lips feels like my reward for the shitty parts of my life.

I step back to get a better look at her and the shower water changes to rain and we’re outside the club in St. Louis again, but she’s nude and there are cameras everywhere.

She mouths my name but no sound passes her lips. Those deep, dark eyes stare into my soul.

“I’m scared,” I say, my voice hoarse.

She nods sympathetically and shifts her gaze to someone standing behind me. Two women appear, and she’s in a wedding dress, crying tears I never meant to make her shed.

My phone rings and drags me from the convoluted dream. I force my eyes open and reach for it, but my hand connects with flesh instead of phone.

My head is pounding like a son of a bitch, but I force my eyes open.

The woman moans and curls into me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I haven’t slept with a woman since I met Hanna. She walks away from me, avoids my calls for five days, and I’m waking up with some strange woman?

I spring out of bed and drag a hand over my face. My head doesn’t appreciate the sudden movement, and I have to catch my balance against the wall as I search my mind for answers.

The phone goes silent, thank Christ. I scan my mind for any remnants of memories from last night. I remember the concert. Then after, I found a pub and some tequila.

I was so fucking lonely.

I called Hanna and got her voicemail.