Lie to Me (27 page)

“Reese,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Bless her heart is all I can say.”

“I don’t get it.” Sam ran a hand through his raven hair. “Why does she think she’ll be the one to fix things between me and Damian? Even God Himself couldn’t do that.”

Casey noticed his sarcasm. It occurred to her that he didn’t sound so certain that they couldn’t work it out. Not anymore.

What stellar timing Reese has! Maybe she’s trying to show Damian what a wonderful person she is so that he’ll remember her all-encompassing goodness and go back to her…

Casey mentally slapped herself again. That was mean and childish. Reese cared about Damian, just like she did, and she’d actually done the deeds that people do when they love somebody.

She owed Reese her thanks.

“Can I go with you?” she asked Sam.

Sam’s lip twitched upwards on one side. “You like to watch fights?”

She grinned at him. “I’ll just sit in the car. This way I’ll see Damian as soon as he gets out of there.”

“It always amazes me that you’re so devoted to him.”

“You just wish somebody was that devoted to you.” She tried to tease him.

“I wish you were that devoted to me, nobody else.” He gave her that look of lust and longing that made her feel uncomfortable.

“There’s a far better match for you than me.”

“I deserve a bitch, right?” Sam laughed.

“Exactly,” she said, then laughed too.

His face sobered. “I’ll probably never marry.”

Casey saw a haunted look pass over his taut features and felt an uncharacteristic affection toward him. He seemed more confused, less smug and arrogant, and his vulnerability made him tolerable. She decided to try to cheer him up. The past few days had been hard on him, just like they’d been for her and all the Ballantines.

“Hey, I’m telling poor, overworked Claire to take over the store this morning. I swear, I owe that girl so much. Would you like to go out for coffee before you face Reese and Damian?”

Sam lifted his gaze and his eyes, usually a hard, ice blue, softened. “Sure,” he said.

Casey patted his arm once before she turned and went back in the store to talk to Claire.

Damian stood before the door to Reese’s hotel room. Looking down, he brushed his white polo shirt and pulled it down so that it hugged his dark jeans. He’d tamed his hair to the ability that he could. Reese worried about him if he looked disheveled. He didn’t want her fussing over him and delaying the unpleasant things he had to say.

Taking in a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Reese must have been right there waiting for him because she threw open the door and flew into his arms, grabbing him around the neck. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. When he gently pulled away, her hazel brown eyes were clear and bright and he had to smile. She would put on a brave front.

“Well, well, you look lovely,” he said, stepping over the threshold and giving her his best smile.

She shut the door and gazed up at him and he couldn’t help grinning. Five years of mostly good memories assailed him. The short woman before him, with her tangled strawberry blond hair, snub nose, ruby lips and pearly white teeth had been a pillar of strength for him when he’d been at his worst. As usual, she dressed to hide her figure. A navy blue suit jacket with white blouse and matching blue pants looked sharp on her and slimmed her down. In spite of his compliments about her rounded, well-endowed form, she still felt she was fat and tried to hide herself.

He gazed at her familiarity with, what he hoped was, kindness, and she smiled.

“Have a seat and we can talk,” she said, walking toward a little kitchenette in the corner of the room.

Damian looked around and vaguely took in a double bed with checkered quilt, two small sofas that faced each other and a wooden coffee table stuck in between them. He strode toward one of the sofas and sat down. “Why didn’t you stay at a nicer motel?” he asked, just to make conversation.

“I got in late, was exhausted, and stopped at the first one I came to.”

“I see.” Damian stifled a yawn. Being in top shape for this meeting would be a challenge if both of them were tired. Reese, however, looked sharp as a tack, like she always did. With a bright grin, she returned from the kitchenette with two smoking mugs in her hands. She handed him one, then sat across from him, setting her own mug on the coffee table.

Damian sniffed the strong smell of dark coffee and cream. “I really need this. Thanks.” He took a sip, eyes watering at the hotness and strength. “Is something else in there? Something bitter?”

She took a sip and nodded, apologies in her eyes. “I ran out of sugar, so I put saccharin in it—that can have a bitter aftertaste, which is why I loaded it with cream. I know how you hate plain black coffee.”

“Saccharin? The stuff you use in place of sugar?”

“Yes. You know I watch my weight.” She held up two pink packets. “I made this a special, extra strong brew for the exhausted.” Her eyes twinkled, even as he noticed her chin quivering so slightly that, had he not been looking for signs of her distress, he would have missed it.
Shit.
He felt like a jerk, but he had to make things clear to her.

Damian drank the coffee, inhaling the caffeine that he required to keep going. “This ultra-strong coffee is just what I need, but you knew that.” He smiled at the woman he considered his best friend. He so appreciated her consideration of his needs.  Nobody would ever cater to him the way she had. Casey would cherish him—he didn’t doubt that—but she wouldn’t try to anticipate his every whim. He preferred Casey’s way, but Reese’s mothering did touch his heart.

“Thanks for being so kind to me.” It was too bad he had to hurt a great woman like Reese.

Reese pursed her heart-shaped lips and looked down.” About last night. I hope I didn’t interrupt—”

“Reese, it was fine.” He cut in with a firm voice, feeling her sadness underneath her brave facade. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

She shrugged and took a dainty sip from her mug. “I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed.”

“I never lied to you, love. I told you that Casey had my heart. I just didn’t think she’d want me back, after what I put her through.”

Reese nodded and dropped her gaze.

“I do care for you, Reese,” he said with heartfelt sincerity—too much maybe. He wanted to ease this for her. “We can stay in touch. I’ll want to talk to the kids—”

“You can’t.” She lifted her eyes, which had hardened.

He flinched. “You won’t let me?”

“Oh, I’d let you, but I don’t have them anymore.”

He stared at her. “Why not?”

“Mom has them until a small problem is worked out. Well, it’s not so small.”

Damian shook his head to clear it. He thought of Eric and Brianna, two quiet kids who were soft-spoken and well behaved, but had opened up a little around him. They seemed in awe of their strong mother.

“Tell me, babe,” he said, in a voice he hoped would soothe. “What happened? Why did they move?”

Reese squirmed and closed her jacket with one hand. “The day before I left to come here, a Social Services worker took them.” As she spoke the devastating words, her voice remained strong and she made good eye contact. Damian admired her for that. He couldn’t have done as well. “Apparently, Eric told his teacher that I locked him in the closet, the young teacher believed it, and called Child Protective Services.

“A social worker talked to the kids privately and took them. I have to go to counseling, see a psychiatrist, all sorts of good stuff to get them back. I was hoping you’d be able to go through this with me, since I’ve done so much for you.”

Damian gritted his teeth as guilt washed over him. The one thing he didn’t like about Reese was how she always mentioned all she’d done for him, as if he ever forgot. “I’d help if I could. I never thought of Eric as a liar.” As he spoke the words, he drank some coffee and tried not to feel an inane wave of doubt.

She shrugged. “You know the kids think I’m too strict, and Mom—”

“But to say you locked him in a closet?” Damian ran a hand through his hair. This didn’t make sense. Eric had always seemed like a levelheaded boy, if not a little timid. Another uneasy feeling slapped him, but he fought it off.

“I never dreamed Eric would say anything like that either,” Reese said, heaving a big sigh. “Now I have to prove I’m fit and my ex-husband is getting involved. He’s coming in from California to maybe take custody…he has wild stories of his own that he made up.” She shook her head. “The judge gave me custody when he tried that the first time. I’m wondering if he told Eric what to say.”

“This happened fast, didn’t it? I haven’t been gone long and nothing was wrong before I left….” He tried to take it all in.

“It happened at school, very quickly. So I came here to tell you—and to be with you. I needed you, and hoped you’d come home with me soon.” She shrugged and gave him a resigned little smile that riddled him with more guilt.

Damian took another sip of coffee. Reese went off on another rant about Eric, but suddenly he was having trouble following her words. They seemed too slow and he kept missing certain phrases. Also, the lights in the room and the sun streaming through the drapes seemed too bright. He squinted as his eyes watered. He must be more tired than he had realized.

As Reese refilled their coffee mugs in the corner of the room, Damian heard himself talking at the wrong speed. He thought he was lucid, but couldn’t be sure. “I wish I could help you. But even if Casey weren’t an issue, I couldn’t leave Miles.” He frowned. Was he slurring his words? Like when he used to get drunk?
No, couldn’t be, right?
Everything seemed a little “off.” The room tilted, the lights were too bright, Reese’s voice seemed too shrill—did lack of sleep do this?
He tried to focus on Reese and her face seemed to zoom right up to him, like a close-up lens.

Reese’s lips turned into a bitter smile. “Isn’t this ironic? You’re finding your son, and you didn’t want him. I’m losing my kids. And, along with them, I’m losing you, but I understand. Life doesn’t always work out the way we’d hoped. Do you want me to refill the coffee? Is it cold?”

Damian had drained his cup.
Hadn’t she just refilled it?
His sense of time seemed screwed up. He was growing to like the coffee, even if it seemed to be making him a little spacey.
Had she put something in it?
He almost laughed.
Reese spiking his coffee. Sure!

“Yes, a refill, please.”

As she took his mug and walked to the kitchenette, Damian tried to digest everything while fighting his foggy, thick brain. When Reese returned with his mug, he said, “Maybe Casey, me and Miles can come visit and offer support—” Had his words come out right? He shook his head to clear it. “Reese, do you feel all right? I’m afraid maybe someone did something to the coffee—whoever is after me—” He shook his head harder, or thought he did. “How’d anyone get in though?” The world made no sense. He made no sense.

“Darling,” she said, and the word echoed several times. “I don’t want to see you with Casey.” She reached over and grabbed his hand before he could push his mug aside. After she squeezed his fingers, she let go. “That would only make it harder. Drink up, honey.”

“Reese—are you all right?” The room whirled.  “This coffee—”

“
My
coffee is fine.” Her smile seemed to stretch grotesquely. “Made two pots. One for you, one for me. A special one for the man who broke my heart.”

To his ears he couldn’t make sense of what was going on and what she said. It sounded as if she was mocking him, but she’d never do that…

“What I can do?” he thought he heard his own slowed voice saying. His mouth felt dry and he tried to lick his lips, but his tongue seemed like cotton. “Really, Reese, I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t. You wanted this.” Reese said, adding that grotesque grin again.

He could barely swallow. There was no saliva to swallow. “My mouth is really dry,” he mumbled as the room started tilting. He pressed his hands to his eyes and grimaced.

“Drink more coffee,” she urged. “You need fluids.”

“No.” He wanted to tell her that the coffee was the cause of his discomfort. Trying not to panic he concentrated on collecting just enough saliva to swallow. He felt like he was being choked.

“Darling, are you all right? Do you need to lie down?” She had somehow ended up kneeling before him, her palms pressing down on his thighs.

“I don’t feel right.” He kicked off his shoes and did lie down on the sofa. His knees bent and his heavy, tingling legs hung over the arm. He seemed to be spinning and sinking into the cushions. Did he feel Reese caressing his arm? She couldn’t anymore; only Casey had that right. But he knew, with a fear that slapped him inside, that she wouldn’t care. Somehow Reese had turned into his enemy. No, no, must be his confused mind making him paranoid.

Shutting his eyes, he said, “You always liked to take care of me, Reese. And you did a good job of it.” He hoped to humor her, just in case.
Focus…focus…

“Yes, I did, dear. If I hadn’t stopped the bleeding from your neck, you’d have died. If I hadn’t helped you through the withdrawals of alcohol, you wouldn’t have stuck it out. If I hadn’t given you money, you’d have had no way to start a business. And I introduced you to my friends in Alabama so you had a lot of support and could start over—you built a life in Alabama with me. Won’t you miss that?”