Solitude (Artistic Pricks Ink #3) (13 page)

BOOK: Solitude (Artistic Pricks Ink #3)
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Went fishing with Mitch and Micah.

Tossing the note to the counter, I shake my head. “Great.”

I contemplate writing a reply of my own and heading back to Vegas in his car. Mitch made it all too clear last night how things are. Even though it would probably be easier to jump in the car and drive as far away from him as possible, I also know that’s not me. I can’t avoid him forever. Besides, when life takes a bite of Shelby Winston, she doesn’t run and hide with her tail between her legs. Hell no, she bites the fucker back and leaves it for dead.

Though I am hurting, I am not weak. It may have gotten me down, but I won’t let it keep me there.

Heading down the hall, I decide to shower since I look like a circus clown who drove a convertible through a car wash. I can’t help laughing at myself when I look in the mirror. My makeup has streaked down my face so badly that I wouldn’t be shocked if my nipples weren’t rocking my eyeliner and lip gloss.

“Today is a new day,” I say, pointing to myself in the mirror. “There’s no reason for that smile to leave your face. You’re Shelby motherfuckin’ Winston!”

Everyone’s middle name should be motherfuckin’. Saying that to yourself in the mirror every morning is the perfect ego boost to jump start your day. It’s like your fight song being played at your own personal pep rally.

Rah rah sis boom bah, you badass motherfucker.

After I’ve showered and dressed, I blow dry and straighten my hair. Once I am satisfied with my makeup, I go in search of caffeine. The coffee pot in the kitchen is a dinosaur. The green pot is the color of baby puke and plugs right into the wall. It even gives me a shock when I switch it on.

Who needs coffee? Electrocution for the win.

Once it’s done, I pour myself a cup and walk out onto the front porch. I stare out into the large front yard, the perimeter is fenced in with thick wooden poles and wire. A flag pole stands in the middle of the yard. The American flag and another that says ‘maintaining the tradition. U.S. Navy retired’ on it wave in morning breeze.

A car turns off the road onto the gravel, catching my attention. It isn’t until it stops behind Mitch’s truck and the door opens that I spot the shock of platinum blonde hair. Climbing from the car in a pair of bright red peep toe heels, Maddie shoulders a bag and heads my way. “Hey. Shelby, right?” she asks waddling up the steps and steps inside the screened in porch, “Mitch here?”

“Nope,” I shake my head. “Went fishing.”

Pursing her lips, she takes the rocker beside me and places the bag at her feet. Resting her hands on her belly, she sighs. Even though she isn’t Becky, I find myself a bit envious of Maddie. She has seen pieces of Mitch that I’ll never know. She has seen him truly happy, known his smile and how different his laugh sounds when it isn’t hiding his real feelings. Those things she knew as normal, every day Mitch, are the very things I have seen tiny glimpses of and crave more of like a fix from a junkie.

“He never could resist the water at sunrise when he was out here with Frank,” Maddie says with a knowing smile. Sniffling, she brushes away a tear. “It’s a horrible feeling to lose your best friend, Shelby.” Her voice cracks as she speaks. “I spent weeks trying to make sense of what happened that day, but it isn’t meant for us to understand why God gives and why he chooses to take away. It is simply our job to celebrate life and make the most of what we have while we’re here.” Looking down at her belly, she hiccups. “Her name is Taylor,” she says softly, rubbing her hand in a circle over her baby bump. “Taylor Rebecca Sheppard. I’ve always believed that the most beautiful things come from pain, Shelby. Nothing truly special can be earned without having to endure.” Blowing out a breath, she brushes down the front of her sliver maxi dress. “Anyway, I wanted to come see you before you headed back to Vegas and I had a feeling this was my only shot to get you alone.”

“Me?” I ask, confused. “You came out here to see me?”

“Losing Becky crushed us all, but I can’t accept losing Mitch too.” Turning in the chair, she faces me, her eyes filled with tears. “Excuse the pregnancy hormones, they make me cry during commercials.” Wiping her face with her hands, she rolls her big blue eyes and laughs. “You probably think I’m certifiable; driving out here to discuss your relationship with Mitch. You don’t know me and I know I come on a bit strong...”

“Um—” I interrupt, thinking exactly that. “I don’t think you understand. Mitch and I aren’t…”

“What Mitch and Becky had was exceptional,” she begins, totally ignoring anything I say. “It was un-fucking-fair for that to be cut short like it was, but who said life was even-handed? Becky’s story may have ended, but Mitch still has plenty of pages left to be filled with his happy. Yes, I know not everyone gets a happily ever after, but if anyone deserves one, it’s him. Yesterday, I had fully planned on chasing him down and knocking some sense into him, with my designer clutch if necessary, but something changed my mind.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, “If it’s the fashion in prison you’re worried about, Maddie, I was told somewhere in Arizona they wear pink.”

“Thanks. I’ll make sure to remember that if I have to get my hands dirty,” she replies with a little laugh. “Actually, though, I’m here now because I can tell you care about him. It’s also because Beck and I had a pact and, being that I can see the feeling is mutual, it’s my job to check you out.” Studying me, she laughs. “Wow, you really are nothing like her at all, are you?”

“Um, I wouldn’t know,” I reply, while she continues to ramble about the vast differences between Becky and me. “I’m not sure I follow why that brings you here to me, Maddie,” I interrupt when she begins to ramble.

“Shit. Sorry, I tend to get off topic.” Pushing the bag toward me, she smiles sadly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m here handling this the best way I know how. To truly love and appreciate that man, you have to really see him. These are for you.”

Reaching inside the bag, she pulls out a leather bound journal. Looking down, I see four more, each of them numbered. My eyes widen and I swear my jaw bounces off the wood beneath my feet. “Me?” I ask, shoving the book back in the bag. “Are these her… I mean those are her…”

“Yes,” she nods. “Mitch was quick to throw out nearly everything, but I managed to save these, among other things, I knew I couldn’t let go to the dump. If anyone loved him, Becky did. No better way to see him than through her eyes.”

“No offense, and I mean this in the nicest way possible,” I explain, pushing to my feet. “But why in the hell would I want to read those? Are you plannin’ to blame this level of insanity on pregnancy hormones too, or is this your normal level of whacked?”

“I like you, Shelby.” Laughing, she pushes to her feet. “Believe it or not, I was afraid this was going to be awkward.”

“Hmmmm,” I hum sarcastically as she walks toward the door. “I wonder why.”

Stopping in the doorway, she turns and meets my eyes. “Beneath all that macho, ‘I’m a giant unfeeling asshole and I’ll be mean to everyone because I can’ bullshit, is a great big heart and an amazing man that should be smiling all the time. Take care of him.”

Without another word, she climbs into her car and drives away. I stare down at the bag, questioning Maddie’s sanity. Seriously, who does this?

“Hi, please excuse me for just showing up and comparing you to my dead best friend, but since you have it bad for the man she was gonna marry… let me give you her diaries so you can read about how amazing they were together and how happy he was before his fucking heart was ripped out…”

Totally not awkward at all…

Leaning down, I poke the top of the canvas bag, peeking down inside. Part of me anticipates some kind of monster hiding inside waiting to bite off a finger or two. Or some sort of trap… This is Maddie we’re talking about here and, from what I’ve seen, the woman has crazy locked down like a pro.

This is a huge invasion of privacy. Not only is it reading Becky’s most personal thoughts and feelings, it’s very much parts of Mitch’s too. Can I justify this? Could I really read these like Maddie thinks I should? Sure, I can admit that I am curious about Becky, and even more so about the man Mitch was before, but does that make it okay to go digging up things that are probably better off staying buried?

Shelby, we all know those ghosts aren’t buried anywhere…

“You wanted answers, Shel,” I say, pulling out the book labeled with a large ‘one’.

Leaning back in the rocker, I glance around the yard, waiting to be caught like some kind of spy. Opening the cover, I spot a bright yellow sticky note.

HA! I knew you’d open it!

Get to reading.

I’ve made notes.

Mad

“Yeah, she’s mad alright,” I say to myself, shaking my head when I see she has even included her phone number in case I want to discuss and reflect on any entries. What the fuck is this, the nosy bitches’ book club? “But, here I am diving head first into the kettle of crazy soup with her. So what does that make me?”

Taking a breath, I flip to page one and am met with another Mad note.

We will label this ‘pre-Mitch’, so irrelevant.

Continue to next note.

Mad

About fifteen pages in, I find another sticky note. Scrawled across it are the words
‘and so they meet’
with little hearts all around the words. “Splash,” I murmur, “right into the kettle.”

Dear Diary,

I’ll never understand men. Today, this guy walked into the spa and, while all his friends watched through the window, had me paint his toes pink just so he could ask me out. He was kinda cute in this dark and broody sort of way, but totally arrogant, and possibly the craziest man I have ever met. His name is Mitch and he is in the Navy. I never date men from the base, but there is something about him. Something that makes me want to smack him and kiss at the same time. I’m not saying it’s normal in any way, but I can’t deny that his sexy smirk is damn near edible.

After I was done with his feet, he managed to persuade Maddie to take my last appointment for the day so that we could eat at this little place down the street. Oddly enough, he already had a reservation for us. Talk about being a little too sure of himself…

“Well, his arrogance sure hasn’t changed,” I mutter to myself. “If anything, all you did was stroke the man’s ego and make it worse, Becky.”

Oh, great. Now, I’m talking to a ghost. Someone call one-eight-hundred-chattin’-up-dead-chicks, in case I need a spotter.

Feeling like an asshole for reading the pages she poured her heart out on like they a
re some kind of how to understand Mitch guide for dummies, I close the book. Shoving it back into the bag, I lean back in the rocker and close my eyes. “What are you doing, Shelby?” I scold myself, covering my face with my hands.

Male voices from the side of the house catch my attention. “Frank always said it wasn’t a real fishin’ trip until someone got dirty.”

I can hear Mitch laughing with the guys, his voice echoing through the yard, becoming louder the closer they get. I start to push to my feet, wanting to go inside and avoid any awkwardness between Mitch and me in front of Micah and Luke. Despite our argument last night, I don’t want to add to the shit he has stacked on his plate to deal with.

Especially not here.

But it’s too late.

“Seriously though, Micah, you should be more careful,” Mitch laughs. “Your coach wouldn’t be too thrilled if you showed up casted up like a plaster version of King Tut’s mummy.”

“Very funny, asshole.”

I look over just in time to see Micah come around the side of the house. His dirt streaked face is red and he is soaked to the bone and covered in mud from head to toe. “I tell ya that was not a fuckin’ fish. All that beer basted chicken liver Frank has been feedin’ those bastards all these years have caused some sort of blood thirsty mutation. The water is not safe. I could’ve been killed!”

“What happened to you?” I ask when he opens the door. “Lose your footing?”

Micah looks down at himself and shakes his head. “You could say that,” he huffs. “Along with my pole, my Duke U hat, and probably a good ten years of my life.”

“Oh, and his balls!” Luke shouts jogging up the steps, a big smile nearly splitting his face.

“Startin’ to wonder if he ever had those,” Mitch chimes in, earning him both of Micah’s mud covered middle fingers.

“Not everyone has theirs safely tucked away in a jar on their girlfriend’s mantle like Luke. Go easy on the kid,” I reply, giving Luke a wink.

My heart lodges in my chest the second my eyes land on Mitch and catch him watching me. The smile that was playing on his face just seconds ago is gone, replaced by something drastically different. His gaze is distant, almost cold. It hurts more than anything he said to me last night, more than anything he could ever say to me. As long as I have known Mitch, after everything that has happened, he has never looked at me this way.

As if I don’t matter.

“So,” Luke says, leaning his pole against the house and collapsing into the seat beside me. “Anything eventful happen here?”

Seeming uninterested, Mitch turns his back to me and begins talking to Micah. Shaking off the hurt and urge to hit Mitch over the head with my coffee mug, I turn my attention to Luke. “Nothing nearly as interesting as Micah being attacked by the River Monster,” I shrug. Standing, I grab the bag at my feet and head for the door. “I’m ready to head back whenever you are, Luke. I’ll just go pack.”

“Soon as I shower and load the car, we can head out if you want,” he replies, “I’m anxious to get home to Ki and check on the shop.”

Stepping into the house, I feel his eyes on me, watching me through the screen door. I start to turn around, but don’t. Instead, I push myself to put one foot in front of the other until I am safely behind the closed bedroom door.

Not wanting to have any more awkward time with Mitch, I take my time packing my things. Once I am done, I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the bag Maddie left for me trying to figure out what to do. I battle inside my head on whether to tell Mitch about Maddie’s visit and give him the journals or not. I know without a doubt if I give them to him they will only end up in the trash, just like Maddie said everything else had. Regardless of how I feel about the situation, or Mitch at the moment, I can’t let them be thrown out like garbage after Maddie already saved them once, can I? The woman doesn’t even know me and yet she trusted me with them.

BOOK: Solitude (Artistic Pricks Ink #3)
13.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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