A Perfect Mess (29 page)

He rubbed at her hair, his face a mass of relief and love as he held her.

“Ambulance is on its way, Cookie,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. But Booker’s hurt bad.”

He released my momma and moved over to Booker. “Nasty head wound. Looks like the bullet grazed his shoulder. He should make it, though. Lottie, go get the thermal blankets in my car.”

She ran off and was soon back, draping one over me and settling the other one over Booker.

I closed my eyes. “Sheriff, about Damien Langston...”

He held up his hand. “There’s nothin’ you got to say, Aubree. Damien Langston disappeared last year, and that’s that. I’ve known you and your aunt for a long time, and you’re both upstanding citizens of this Parish. Daniel Langston was just as big a bully as his twin. If your aunt…

“Mother.”

He gave my momma a startled look. “You told her?” When she nodded, he grinned. “So, that makes me your stepdaddy. I like that better than uncle.”

I smiled back at him. “So do I.”

He pinned me with his piercing gaze. “If your mother hadn’t plugged him, he would have killed you where you were sitting, make no mistake.”

“But, Sheriff…”

“No, Aubree, the case is closed. Daniel Langston attacked your aunt and kidnapped you and Booker. He paid for it with his life. His brother? I don’t think he’ll be back to bother any of us.” When he heard the sirens, he got up to meet the ambulance.

“How did you know it wasn’t Booker driving?”

“I saw Daniel through the window. As soon as I did, it all came rushing back to me. The memory of him demanding to know if you’d killed his brother and where his body was. I called Mike, went and grabbed my daddy’s shotgun and ran all the way here.”

“It was an accident. He had a knife…”

“I knew that, Aubree. I knew last year. I overhead you and Booker talking when he brought you back to the house. If Damien hadn’t been dead already, I would have killed him myself.”

“And the sheriff?”

“I told him when he proposed. I didn’t want any secrets between us.”

I flinched at that and looked down at Booker. There were still two secrets between us. Before I could go back to Tulane, there would be none. “You knew all this time and still you protected me.”

“He tried to rape you and, if not for Booker, he would have succeeded.”

“That’s why you helped Booker.”

“That, and he
is
very talented. It would have been a shame for him to waste it.”

The EMTs ran over with a stretcher and I had to let go of him. They dressed his head and shoulder wounds, hooked him to an IV, and put him on the stretcher. When they wheeled him away, my momma stood and helped me up. “You go with him. I’ll bring you some fresh clothes and call his mother.”

“She’s out of town. Call Boone.”

“All right.

I squeezed my momma’s hand and went with Mike to the hospital.

#

I went to Daniel Langston’s funeral even though the service was private. I stood with Verity and River Pearl on one side of the chapel, sad to see that only his father and a few others were there. I’d told my friends everything, and they’d been both horrified and shocked to learn that I’d been living with such a terrible secret.

Damien and Daniel—we’d been connected by discord and hate, fear, and intimidation, but Daniel had been a living, breathing person, just like his brother. I hadn’t gone there to pay my respects, although forgiveness wasn’t beyond me. I was there to put it all to rest. To get closure.

I’d come more for myself than for Damien or Daniel.

The sheriff had sheltered me, telling a story of a boy who had hated Booker and me so much he wanted to make us pay, and how the sheriff had put an end to the terror. My mother’s name was kept out it. The rivalry between the Outlaws and the Langstons was already well known in the town. Of course, there were people who still talked behind their hands about the Outlaws, as they probably always would.

River Pearl and Verity each held one of my hands. I was buoyed by their presence and comforted by their silent support. River Pearl even curbed her natural sarcasm in honor of the occasion.

When it was time for the eulogy, his father said a few words about the promise of his legacy lost, and I just felt so bad for both of those boys because, even in the face of his remaining son’s death, their father only cared about himself.

River Pearl and Verity drove me home.

“Are you going back to Tulane?” Verity asked.

“Not right away,” I said.

“I wish you would stay for the rest of the summer,” River Pearl sighed. “We could go swimming, crayfishing and, maybe even a trip into New Orleans to Café Noir for some delicious beignets and café au lait followed by a fun-filled day of shopping.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot, Aubree,” Verity said. “But we missed you. We need a summer of fun with no worries, like before, when all we cared about were our A’s, makeup, and what we’d written in our diaries the night before.”

“Yeah,” River Pearl said, “the good ol’ days. Think about it, okay?”

“I will.” I was planning on visiting Booker in the hospital in the afternoon, hoping he would be lucid so we could talk. We had to talk and this time he was going to listen to everything I had to say.

Inside, I went into the kitchen to find my mother and the sheriff at it again. I swear they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. With a pang, I wished for Booker, so much unresolved between us. So much between us.

“Oh, hi, Aubree.”

Mike pulled back and cleared his throat. “How are you, Cookie?”

My momma came forward and took my hands. “I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while,” she said, her strong voice softened by strain to a whisper. “You should do the same, honey. It’s been a dreadful few days.”

I struggled for a brave smile and shook my head. “I couldn’t sleep if I tried. I’m going to get a drink and sit on the patio for a bit.”

“I gotta get back to work. I will see you ladies a bit later.”

I nodded and hugged him hard before he left.

Dark eyes shining with the kind of love and wisdom the most special mothers possessed, she nodded and squeezed my fingers. “Boone has done wonders. That boy is a genius. You search for serenity, Aubree. God knows you deserve it.”

My emotions were too much of a jumbled, mixed up mess to even think about serenity, but I was going to try, to hope.

“It’ll be even nicer when I put in the pool,” Momma added.

“It will be.”

I rambled along the path fondling the pretty flowers. A restless breeze swirled the hem of the peasant blouse that Verity had crafted, and brushed the ends of my hair across my shoulders. The day was warm and muggy, with a fickle sky that transitioned from a clear blue bowl to a tumble of angry gray clouds.

Despite the caprice of the weather and the aura of sorrow that hung on me like a mantle, I was still able to appreciate the loamy growth, the intoxicating scents of the flowers. The beauty calmed me, soothed, offering a distinct comfort. But what I was searching for wasn’t here in this beautiful garden.

I had turned the page in my life and it was a profound discovery that had knocked me for a loop. I had found the mother I had always longed for in my Aunt Lottie. Her love and support now settled deep inside me, warm and complete, my terrible doubts about being unworthy of her love or loyalty put to rest. The Langstons were both dead, their threat gone, and almost all the secrets I had harbored had been confessed, releasing some of the pressure on my heart. The town would continue to gossip, but that, too, would eventually die down.

Anyone would agree that my future was bright. I still had college ahead of me, although I wouldn’t be studying statistics. I’d already contacted my advisor about switching to pre-med. I’d always wanted to be a doctor, and maybe it wasn’t exactly what Mrs. Daily thought was right for me, but I didn’t care about that anymore. I was following my own mind, my own heart, to my own destiny. A challenge worthy of my potential. Just like Booker had suggested. By the time I finished medical school and my residency, Dr. Rust would be ready to retire. I had every intention of taking over his practice for him.

I should have felt a sense of closure, I thought, as I took a seat on the corner bench. But I felt more as if something had started to come undone an unanchored thread pulled loose and left to unwind willy-nilly.

Everything was settled.

Everything except.

Booker.

The boy I had abandoned to his agony that long-ago day, while I watched from behind a set of bleachers and then allowed him to languish in ignorance of how my feelings for him had altered. The man who had brought me fully into womanhood with mind-bending pleasure, aching tenderness, and deep intimacy.

This time last year I was delivering my valedictorian speech, still innocent, on the cusp of making that big step into the world by myself and terrified of screwing up. Yes, my innocence had been left behind. And I had, inevitably, screwed up. Just like every other human being. My eyes were now wide open.

I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Booker, but the death of Damien Langston had bound us together. And, truth be told, would always bind us together.

I’d had no business falling in love with him. But nothing seemed to change the fact that I was still hopelessly in love with him.

A relationship had been the last thing I was looking for when I’d raced home to take care of my momma. But I couldn’t forget his wicked smile, his sense of humor, and that indolent, in-your-face bad boy quality about him. Unpredictable as the shift in the weather, as the colors of a kaleidoscope, as the shimmering patterns of moonlight shining through the canopy of the bayou. As wild as the swamp. All of that was now inside me. All because of him.

Booker had taken his talent and built himself a life out of the ashes of that burned-out piano. In the wake of his father’s betrayal, he’d shown that he was worth something more than what his reputation branded him.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, turning my face up to the sky as the sun played hide-and-seek with the clouds. For a moment I let myself picture a life where we could be together, rise above our pasts and live beyond the shadows of our secrets. Where he and I could just be happy without all that baggage.

“You’re the prettiest thing in this garden, sugar.”

It took me a moment to realize the voice had not been my imagination. My eyes flew open, and I swung around on the bench to see him standing there, leaning against the side of the house in faded jeans and a white t-shirt, his arm in a sling.

He was pale beneath his tan, and there was strain etched deep in his eyes that combined with the shadow of his beard to make him look tough and dangerous. The bruise on the side of his face was a stark reminder that I could have lost him. He smiled his wicked grin, but there was too much pain in his eyes to pull it off.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” I said, shooting up off the bench. “Don’t even try to tell me Dr. Rust released you!”

He winced a little at the volume of my voice. His hand going to his temple. “I discharged myself. I couldn’t stay there one more minute. I had to see you.”

“You are so damned unpredictable! What about your health? Did you think about that?”

“I’m fine. I just have a bitch of a headache and really sore shoulder.”

I scowled at him, jamming my hands on my hips. “You have a concussion and you got shot! I think you could have used a few more days resting. You come here and sit down, right now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need any more rest.”

#

Booker

The only muscle in my body that ached was my heart. I’d needed to see her, to look in her eyes and make sure she was fine.

“Booker, you weren’t even awake the last time I visited.” Her voice thick with emotion.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, hoping she didn’t cry because I was hovering on the edge.

Dismissing the topic, I looked down at her, taking in the deep shadows beneath her eyes. She couldn’t have looked more exquisitely beautiful to me. I had discovered that Aubree Walker had the kind of strength that showed itself in the worst of times. I was sure I was the cause of the shadows beneath her eyes, trying her patience. “I care more about your welfare, sugar? I want to know about you.”

“I went to Langston’s funeral,” she whispered, her eyes were calm and I was relieved to see that she’d come to terms with what had happened to us.

Then anger sparked through me. “What the fuck for?”

“To get closure.”

I sighed. That was something that could be good for the soul. But I didn’t need it with the Langstons. They both got what they deserved. “Girls and their closure. Fucking bastards are dead. They brought it on themselves.”

She curled her hand around my biceps. “I know. I just needed to go. For me.”

I nodded distracted by her heated skin against mine.

I reached up and brushed at her windblown hair, tucking the heavy mass behind her ear, trailing my fingers along her jaw. “I’m not here to talk about the Langstons. I came here for the possibilities and to listen.”