Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) (12 page)

S
hannon struggled
through Laura’s service, contemplating the finality of death for someone so young. The inexplicable death brought Shannon back to the close calls in her own life—a bad car wreck when she’d been drunk or an emergency room visit when she’d taken too many pills. Those narrow escapes should have been more sobering at the time than they were.

Shannon sipped her club soda with lemon, feeling the weight of loss. Standing in Lindsay’s kitchen, wearing her long, black jersey dress, she looked around at the people with whom she used to tear up the town. It hadn’t quite been two years since she’d been around them all, but it felt like a decade. The stumbling, blurry-eyed crowd were now foreigners.

“Come on, Shannon. This is a party. It’s what Laura wanted.”

Amber Grant, one of Laura’s best friends, walked toward Shannon, nearly tripping as she waved a bottle of vodka. Her other friend, Cori Edwards, laughed.

“Seriously, don’t tell me you’ve gone so straight you can’t have one toast.”

“I toasted.”

“With soda? That ain’t a toast,” Cori barked.

“I think I’m too upset to party, right now. I’m going to check on Lindsay.”

Shannon downed her non-alcoholic drink and wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall. Lindsay sat on the living room couch in a daze.

“How you doing, Linds?”

Her swollen eyes stayed fixed on the television where contestants on some kind of show buzzed in and gave answers to applause. “I don’t even know.”

Shannon sat down next to her old friend and put her arms around her. Then, Lindsay started to tell stories about her sister. Once, she said, their dad had forbidden Laura to wear a short, tight skirt to school—going so far as to search Laura’s backpack to make sure she wasn’t trying to smuggle it.

“My dad should have paid more attention. She wore that thing as a tube top under her button down, and when she got to school, she took off her jeans, pulled the top down into a skirt and pranced around all day. He never knew. Laura was a schemer, you know? A planner. She had all kinds of plans.”

Lindsay choked up, and Shannon lost her control. They sobbed in each other’s arms.

“No sad faces.” Lindsay declared, wiping her face with the backs of her hands. “I have to think about the good things. Laura wanted us to celebrate. I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?”

“Maybe a Coke?”

Amber and Cori came bustling in from the hall.

“We got your drinks. Vodka and seven for you, Lindsay. And a plain ol’ 7-Up for Shannon. That’s not too strong for you, is it? I didn’t see any more club soda.” Amber sneered, and Cori giggled.

Shannon took the drink and rolled her eyes. Cori didn’t appear to have an independently functioning brain at this point. She’d never missed drinking less than in that moment.

Lindsay strode past them to the door. “Let’s get some fresh air, Shannon.”

They walked around the house. Gaggles of people rambled across the sprawling, unfenced backyard. The party had spilled over, and Lindsay’s neighbors, dressed in black, had drinks, sitting on their back patio.

Shannon looked from group to group, seeing how many others she knew. She chatted with a few people. Her mood improved in the fresh air, and she felt sociable for the first time all day.

Then, she saw him. He hadn’t seen her yet, but Kid’s short, taut form leaned against the pole holding up one end of a clothesline.

“I gotta go,” Shannon announced in a panic.

“What?” Lindsay turned. “Oh. I’ll get him to leave.”

“You don’t understand. He attacked me a few weeks ago. The police are looking for him. I need to go.”

Shannon didn’t want to tell Lindsay that she was about to call the cops. This wasn’t a crowd that appreciated law enforcement for any reason.

“Okay, well…wait!” Lindsay screamed.

Kid met Shannon’s eyes and came tearing across the yard. Shannon turned and took off—to little avail. Kid caught her easily, dragging her by the arm through a crowd and toward the house.

Shannon tried to pull away, but suddenly felt dizzy.

“Where you running off to?” Kid coughed.

“Let. Me. Go.” Shannon enunciated the words to get them out. Lindsay stormed toward them with a tall, broad blond man behind her. Did she recognize him? Things around Shannon seemed to speed up and slow down all at once. She breathed deeply and focused her eyes. What was going on?

“I’ll call the p-police,” Shannon stammered.

Kid only laughed. Then, Shannon saw Amber and Cori, also laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

Shannon heard Lindsay say that over and over. Kid pulled again at her arm, and the tall man appeared.

“Let her go, Kid. You need to get the hell outta here before we call the police. Lord knows, you don’t need any more of that trouble.”

Kid grumbled something, and the men started shoving one another. Then, another guy stepped in and grabbed Kid, dragging him away.

“You best take your cousin home.” The tall guy was huffing and puffing. “You alright, sweetheart.”

“I’m not feeling too great.”

“Those bitches put something in her drink, thinking it would be funny. Can you take her inside? I need to go deal with those two.”

Shannon felt a strong arm around her, guiding her toward the sliding glass door that led into the kitchen.

“My room is here. Next to the bathroom.”

Stumbling, she felt the floor jump up and bang her knee. The arms around her righted her and helped her down the hall. Shannon lifted her chin to get a look at him. He was tall and lean and blond and, for tonight, her savior.

“I think this is your stop, honey.”

His voice rumbled low with humor. Then, he winked. Shannon leaned into his warm body, and his lips came down before she could react. He reminded her of Jonah, but it wasn’t him. She flattened her palm against his chest and tried to push. He’s not Jonah. She kept telling herself that. It’s not Jonah. It’s not Jonah.

The remonstrating chorus rang in her head until the surge of drowsiness and incoherence overtook her.

S
unlight blasted
through the window like a policeman’s flashlight shining on the crimes of the night before. Shannon woke up alone. Her mental scramble to recall the previous night came up short.

She remembered leaving the memorial and returning to Lindsay’s house. She remembered being in Lindsay’s kitchen, but everything else clouded in her brain. Kid? Had she seen him? The fragmented image of an argument popped up in her mind. She’d been afraid. Other than that, she could recall nothing.

Shannon’s arms and one knee bore bruises. A lingering somnolence clung to her bones, and every part of her body felt heavy. The stagnant air in her room had a chill, so she wrapped the throw blanket on the foot of the twin bed around her shoulders. As she swung her legs to the floor, a flood of nausea hit her. Forcing herself to her feet, she plodded to the bathroom next to her room and vomited.

Shannon wasn’t sure how long she stood there, doubled over the toilet. A quick rap on the door startled her, and she straightened up.

“You okay in there? I heard you get up.” Cori’s voice floated through the door.

“I’m alright, I think.” Shannon ran the water until it warmed, rinsed her mouth, and splashed her face, swiping off the water and shaking her hands since she couldn’t find a towel.

She opened the door and started into the younger woman’s concerned face.

“I’m real sorry about Amber and the roofie and stuff. Are you real sick?”

Cori’s half-assed apology gave Shannon a shot of adrenaline. “Yes. I feel like shit. What the fuck makes you think it’s okay putting drugs in people’s drinks?”

“It was just a joke. We’ve taken it for fun before. It’s not a big deal. Trust me.”

“You don’t get it. Do you have any idea what could have happened to me? I’m clean for a reason. I don’t take drugs for fun. What did you even give me?”

Cori’s eyes widened. “A roofie.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. But Amber and I have taken them before. You just need to calm down.”

“Fuck you, Cori. Telling me to calm down. I don’t even remember what happened last night.”

Shannon advanced on Cori, who stumbled backward.

“God! I said I was sorry. Besides you didn’t seem to mind when you were making out with Aaron the hero.”

Horror flooded Shannon. “What? I have a boyfriend. I wouldn’t make out with anybody.”

“Really? Because after Aaron threw your ex out of here, you made out with him in the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.”

Acid burned Shannon’s throat, and she felt like throwing up again. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

Cori smirked. “Well, you did.”

“I was drugged!”

“You were pretty happy near as I could tell. Totally into it. Aaron’s hot. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Shannon’s chest constricted, and she looked down the hall. “Where’s Lindsay?”

Her friend would tell her what happened without all the bullshit commentary.

“She had something to take care of at the funeral home. Won’t be back for a couple hours.”

Shannon’s breathing heaved, and dizziness crept over her. She leaned against the doorjamb to steady herself.

“Look, I can drive you to the doctor if you want.”

“No! I don’t need a doctor. I just have to pull it together.” Shannon threw her face into her palms.

Cori’s tale pushed new pieces of memory to the forefront of her mind. She remembered Kid grabbing her, and a guy pulling her away from him. That had to be Aaron. He’d put his arms around her. Shannon gasped. She had kissed him. She recalled the sandpaper feel of his face on her cheek. What had she done?

The watering of her eyes turned to full-blown tears, and she stepped back into the bathroom, slamming the door. She opened the cabinets across from the sink and found a couple of rough, threadbare towels. That would have to do. A hot shower—that’s what she needed.

She’d get herself clean and wash away the stupidity of the night before. Regret slammed her.

She shouldn’t have come back to the house. She should have gone to the memorial and then seen Lindsay another time. Being around these people was a mistake. She’d known that, and come back anyway. She should have known better, but now, she’d concentrate on forgetting.

How many times had she found herself in this murky mess before—the blur of drugs and a questionable guy? The best part was not remembering. If she went home and got back to her life as it was now, she could continue to not remember.

A shower and then getting the hell out of that house were as good a plan as any.

O
ver the next three weeks
, Jonah became laser-focused on planning Shannon’s birthday. Since it fell on Halloween, she insisted on celebrating the night before because she had trick-or-treating plans with Olivia.

“You can come if you want. I’m meeting at Jeff’s at six for dinner. Trick-or-treating starts at seven.” She shared her plans one night when he stopped by her apartment. He hadn’t seen much of her since she’d returned from the funeral in Mineola. Jonah figured she was still consumed with attending to her friend.

“He won’t mind?”

“I already checked with him. All you have to do is find a costume. I’ve got my witch costume all picked out.”

Jonah’s heart twisted at her expectant look, which gave him his answer. For her to introduce him as her boyfriend to Olivia and her responsible ex-husband meant something to her. Jonah couldn’t disappoint her.

“I’d love to. I think I can wrangle up a costume, and we’ll have your birthday dinner the night before.”

“What are we doing? You won’t tell me anything.”

“I’ll send a car for you at seven. Bring a change of clothes and dress however you want.”

She squinted at him with suspicion. “Anything I want? So, no fancy dinner? Unless you’re buying me something else to wear. Don’t, Jonah. That ball gown was plenty. I feel guilty.”

Shannon sighed, exasperated and pleading.

To reassure her, Jonah raised his right hand. “I promise I won’t buy you another outfit.”

“Thank you. Now, can’t you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope. Be ready at seven.”

He decided that he wouldn’t buy Shannon one thing for her birthday. Instead, Jonah dug deep into his creativity to impress her with something other than his money.

Staying in seemed like the best idea. Shannon had only been to his craftsmen-style home on historic Swiss Avenue once—and just for a few minutes. They almost always went to her place a few blocks from the Scarlet Maple.

He planned a meal to cook all on his own. Of course, this entailed having a chef from one of his favorite restaurants come over the week before to walk him through a trial-run chicken parmesan with roasted vegetables and pasta.

Jonah never cooked a meal for a woman before. He had hired a chef and told women that he cooked dinner, but that was years ago, in his douchebag twenties.

Digging deep meant dusting off the guitar skills he also acquired in his twenties. Jonah thought he might take a turn at writing something to go along with a tune he knew. Three days into the lyrical process, he realized he should probably stick to market valuations and not quit his day job.

Abandoning the idea that he could write a romantic masterpiece, he went to a local guitar store to find sheet music for something he could practice and learn in a few weeks.

Then, he remembered driving to dinner and Shannon turning up the volume and closing her eyes, loving a particular country song. A few learned chords and YouTube guitar lessons later, Jonah could play it—maybe not like Tim McGraw—but he’d at least try.

Shortly before seven thirty, Shannon stepped into the parqueted foyer, clutching the dozen long-stemmed roses he had delivered to her with the car and an overnight bag. She dropped the bag and removed her coat to reveal long, lean jeans and a glittering halter top in silver sequins. Her hair bounced as she stepped carefully in her sky-high heels.

“A little casual. A little fancy. I have other options in the bag.”

Jonah curled his arms around her, giving her a series of nibbling kisses along her jawline before landing on her lips. The softness of her mouth drew a moan from him. He wound her curls around his fingers, and she pressed toward him. Jonah pulled away, breathing hard into her hair. If he didn’t stop now, his elaborate dinner scheme might be ruined.

“What you have on is perfect—except the shoes. I love them. I could see you in those—only those—later, but you should be comfortable.”

Shannon laughed. Her thumb swiped slowly across her plump bottom lip. Jonah straightened up and exhaled.

“You don’t have to tell me twice to take these off. Or to save them for later.” She threw herself at Jonah, taking his face in her hands for a deep kiss. He pulled her hands down to her sides.

“I made you dinner. I have impressive, romantic plans for tonight. At this rate, we’ll never make it.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m hungry. Lead the way.”

S
hannon floated
through the three weeks since the funeral in a haze. Seeing Olivia, working, and avoiding Jonah were priorities one, two, and three.

She called the police officer allegedly looking into Kid’s attack on her and reported that she’d seen him. Shannon could hear the general apathy in the guy’s voice. Jonah had pushed them before, and likely would again. However, there was no way Shannon would mention the incident to him.

No matter how many times she told herself that what happened wasn’t her fault, shame forced itself on her. Her life today was about taking responsibility for her choices, and she’d screwed up.

After her monthly family therapy session with Jeff, Taryn, and Olivia, she’d lingered in the waiting room, nearly discussing the events from Mineola with their therapist. The moment came, and she froze. She could have avoided what happened, and she couldn’t bear to hear that from someone else—let alone her therapist.

Move past it. She admonished herself on a daily basis, distracting herself with extra shifts at the restaurant or at Vivienne’s.

She tried to go on as before with Jonah. For breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner, he came in to the restaurant. Gladness to see him came easy—even though sometimes she felt like a liar and a cheat.

When the limousine arrived in front of her building, Shannon peered out the window and steeled herself. Jonah planned a special evening for her, and she would enjoy it. His obvious pleasure in seeing her happy prodded her on.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Shannon sat where Jonah told her in the wide dining room situated straight ahead across the foyer.

“Positive,” he shouted from the kitchen. He came back with a ceramic dish filled with tomato sauce and covered in cheese.

“Lasagna?”

“Chicken parmesan.”

“Impressive.”

He set the dish on a trivet between the two place settings on the end of his arts and crafts dining room table. Shannon recognized the coherence between the decor of the room and the era of the house, knowing Vivienne had done the decoration.

“Thank you. I also have some vegetables and pasta. What do you want to drink? I have club soda, Sprite, and Coke. Or water, obviously.”

“Club soda is good. Do you have lime?”

“Of course.”

After a few more trips to and from the kitchen, Jonah finally sat down cater-corner from her and began serving.

“This smells fantastic. I thought you didn’t cook?”

“I got a lesson from a friend. It looks like the one he made, so I’m feeling pretty good about myself. Flavor-wise? We’ll see. Be kind.”

“Always.” Shannon cut a piece of chicken, swearing that regardless of the results, she’d tell him she loved it. Luckily, she didn’t have to lie. “Wow. It’s good!”

Jonah gave a small fist pump. “Victory.”

“Be careful. Now I’m going to start expecting home-cooked meals.”

“I might start making them.”

“You never cooked growing up?”

“No. We had household staff for that. My mother never cooked. My dad certainly never cooked. My grandmother taught us to bake and cook some. I learned to master spaghetti and tacos when I got my first apartment in college. Do you cook much?”

“A little. Honestly, I’m getting better. I grew up making macaroni and cheese out of boxes. I ate that so much that now I can’t stand the sight of it. Olivia asked for it once, and it was a struggle to mix it up without hurling it out a window.”

“I kind of like it, which is weird, because I’ll admit it’s terrible.”

“Cheese shouldn’t come from a powder.”

“So, when you cook what do you make?”

“I learned how to make homemade mac and cheese, but I can’t eat that all the time. I mostly eat simple stuff—baked chicken, pasta, vegetables. Carl, the chef at the Scarlet Maple, showed me how to roast a ‘proper’ chicken.” Shannon made the air quotation marks and laughed.

“How’s that?”

“Make sure your chicken is dry so you get crispy skin. Roast at a high temperature for a few minutes and the reduce it. That’s also for crispy skin. I’m going to try it when I do my turkey for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Oh. What are you planning for Thanksgiving?”

Shannon hadn’t considered spending the holiday with Jonah. Not that she didn’t want to, but she figured he’d be with his family. That didn’t sound like fun to her—at all. She’d never had a happy Thanksgiving.

Jeff and Taryn said she could come over there, but what she really wanted, though, was to cook and spend time with friends. Her boss bragged on her cornbread dressing and invited her to her place. It would just be Shannon, Penny, and Penny’s two kids, but that sounded great. Jonah’s family made her uncomfortable—even as nice as Vivienne was to her.

“Penny—my boss—invited me over. She just got divorced, and it’s just her and her kids. I won’t see Olivia that day. I get her the next day. We’re going Christmas shopping.”

“You can come to my parents if you want. The dinner is usually outstanding, and we watch football.”

“Umm…I could stop by for sure.”

“I imagine a stuffy dinner with my parents isn’t at the top of your list for your holiday off.”

“You’re parents seem…like great people, but I thought it’d be nice to have a relaxed holiday.”

“Believe it or not—the holidays are the best time with my family. My grandmother is driving up from Houston.”

“By herself?”

“Well, her driver is driving her up from Houston. She doesn’t like to fly.”

Jonah stared at her wide-eyed waiting for a response.

“Do I have to dress up?”

“I’ll be in a suit and tie.”

“A suit and tie? For Thanksgiving?”

“We do a formal dinner. The jacket and tie usually come off after dessert—if we’ve eaten all our vegetables.”

For a moment, Shannon took Jonah seriously, then he chuckled.

“I can tell Penny I can’t make it. I would like to spend the day with you.”

“Me too. Let’s make it a date.”

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind the extra person?”

“I’ll tell them we’re spending the holidays together. They’ll be fine.”

“When are you going to give your dad your answer about running for office? Thanksgiving is your deadline, right?”

“Yes. I’ll tell them—as soon as I figure out what I want to do.”

“I can’t imagine being in Congress, but you would have a chance to help a lot of people.”

“Yes, but not the people I want to. That’s what scares me, frankly. The people pushing me to run are people who expect to have a politician in their pocket. Lester Cornell and even my father. If I ran, I’d want to represent the people who don’t already have access to power and government. It’s a tough thing. You have to have money to campaign, but the money makes you beholden to moneymen.”

Jonah dropped his fork and sighed. Shannon respected him for wanting to help everyday people. He’d probably make a great representative.

“The moneymen are always the problem—no matter what you’re talking about, aren’t they? People with money get to call the shots.”

“I wish I could disagree with you. But then, that’s why I think I would want to run. I could do things differently. Or so I tell myself. I don’t know. I keep thinking I’ll get some kind of sign to point me in one direction or another.”

“Whatever you decide, you can always help people if you choose to.”

“True.”

“You did your Habitat for Humanity project last Saturday. How’d that go?”

“Great. We’ve finished a couple of houses, and we’ll start on the next ones in a month or so—weather permitting. Things get trickier over the winter.”

“Well, if you ever need an extra pair of hands, I’d help—if I can get the time off.”

Jonah’s eyes lit up. “You’d love it. You work alongside the people who are going to live in the house. You meet them and their family and form a real connection. I got one of the moms I’ve met a job at Moran Financial. She’s an admin in our payroll department.”

“You love helping people.”

“I do. I know how lucky I am to be in this position. It’s really all an accident of birth.”

“You work hard, too, though.”

“Yes, but it’s still easier. What did Ann Richards once say about George W.? He was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple? I don’t know how true that is for him, but I know I don’t want that to be me.”

“I admire that about you. Some of us are born in the parking lot, and some of us aren’t even that lucky.”

“Well, it’s not where you start. It’s where you finish.”

“I hope so.”

Shannon wondered how far she’d actually come. Just when she thought she escaped the mistakes of her past, they jumped up and bit her. Getting dragged backward over and over exhausted her. One day, she feared, she’d run out of steam to rebound.

“Hey,” Jonah interrupted her thoughts, “this is your birthday—sort of—let’s keep the celebration going. I have dessert, which I admit to buying, and then I have your present.”

Shannon crossed her fingers he hadn’t spent more exorbitant amounts of money on her. “I told you that you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Nonsense. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t give his lady something for her birthday?”

Shannon nearly choked on a piece of zucchini. Jonah thought of himself as her boyfriend. So had she. She still did. Drugs or no, a girlfriend doesn’t throw herself at another man. She clamped down on that thought to root it out of her brain. What happened hadn’t just been her fault.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what it is. Can I get a hint?”

He grinned, lifting his eyes to the wood-coffered ceiling. “No. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it. I don’t know why you’d be nervous.”

“You will. Anyway, we still have cake—but not until you finish your vegetables.” Jonah winked and swirled pasta tightly around his fork.