Let's Not & Say We Did (The Love Game Book 5) Page 3

  As I pondered all the ridiculous things I could do to make Taylor laugh, I felt a tug on my sleeve.

  “Hey there, Cinnabon.” I crouched down so I was at eye level with Cindy, a little girl I’d bonded with a few weeks ago when I’d impulsively volunteered to babysit her for a weekend.

  Since that had happened, Cindy had been staying with her uncle, the director of Safe Haven, while her mom got her life sorted out. But Harry still drove her to school every morning, and she still came to Safe Haven in the afternoons so Cindy could have consistency in her routine.

  Cindy pointed covertly—or as covertly as a seven-year-old could manage—at Taylor and then let a finger draw down her cheek as if tracking a tear.

  “Is Taylor sad?” I said, thinking that’s what Cindy was asking. Whether Cindy was just extremely shy or a selective mute, I wasn’t sure, but I was grateful we’d found our own method of communicating.

  She reached out and tapped my arm twice, her sign for yes.

  I cast another quick glance in Taylor’s direction before refocusing on Cindy. “Maybe she’s just tired today. Nothing for you to worry about.” I didn’t want to lie to the kids. I felt like they could tell who they could depend on to be real with them. But I obviously couldn’t tell Cindy that Taylor was worried we’d killed someone, so that was as close to the truth as I felt comfortable getting.

  Cindy looked unsure. Then she pointed at me and repeated the motion with her hand.

  I smiled. “No, Cindy, I’m not sad.” I’m scared out of my mind. “But thank you for worrying about us. You’re a pretty special kid, you know that?”

  Cindy’s lips turned up in a shy smile she tried to hide by ducking her head. I stood, gave her a gentle pat on the head, and walked over to Taylor. “Hey. Can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  We moved over toward where we stored the snacks so we’d have a small bit of privacy.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Cindy just came over and asked me if you were sad.”

  Taylor’s face fell, making me think I should’ve been more tactful with my phrasing. “Shit. Guess I’m not doing a good job of hiding I have a lot on my mind, huh?” She tried for another one of those half smiles she’d been doling out all afternoon. It almost hurt me to see it.

  I crowded a bit closer to her. “Tell me how to fix it. If you want me to go to the police, I—”

  She clutched my shirt in her hands. “No,” she said, her tone emphatic. “Absolutely not. That is not even an option.”

  “Okay,” I capitulated. She continued to hold on to my shirt, so I gripped her elbows. She looked like she was close to panicking. “Breathe. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  “Just…you can’t go to the police. Promise me.”

  I tried not to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep, but I figured Taylor’s emotional state—as well as my desire not to make a scene in front of the kids—was enough to have me agreeing. “I won’t.”

  She took a steadying breath and released my shirt. “I’m sorry. I just hate feeling like the police are going to walk in here any second and drag us away.”

  “I know. But from what you said earlier about what Sophia told you, it doesn’t seem like they have any suspects.” Which, in a lot of ways, made me feel even worse. Granted, there’d been no details released about the crime. For all we knew, Brad had tripped on his way out of the alley, hit his head, and died. But not setting things right didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t run from problems. I wasn’t my mother.

  I didn’t want to dodge the consequences of my actions. And I wasn’t trying to dodge the consequences of this one. But my priority—whether it was right or not—was Taylor. And I couldn’t risk her getting swept up in everything. Once I knew she was safe, I’d come clean.

  I saw Roddie, a college student who worked here with us, out of the corner of my eye. He stopped beside us, his head swinging between us for a second before saying, “Are you guys dancing?”

  Taylor’s eyes narrowed in what I assumed was confusion. “Why would we be dancing?”

  Roddie shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  Taylor stared at him for a moment before saying, “Everything with you feels harder than it should be.”

  Smiling widely, Roddie said, “I know, right?” and sauntered away.

  Looking back at me, Taylor said, “How are we the most normal ones here?”

  “That’s not fair. Some of the kids are”—I looked over to where two boys were lifting up the dresses of some dolls—“kinda normal.”

  “Are you two dancing?”

  I startled before whirling around to see Edith, Harry’s cantankerous secretary, standing behind me. “Why is that everyone’s first guess?”

  “Would copulating be better?”

  Horror swept through me at the sound of this septuagenarian saying the word “copulate.” “Never again, Edith. That word leaves your mouth never again.”

  “Please. I was using that word before your dad had his first tickle in his trousers.”

  “Why, Edith? Why?” The only thing that kept my lunch down was the fact that my father was more of an abstract concept than a living reality. I would’ve never expected to be thankful for coming from a single-parent home, but here we were.

  Edith shrugged. “I like to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable? My brain needs bleach to recover from this conversation.”

  Her face was smug. “Then my work here is done.”

  “Like forever?” I asked hopefully.

  She none-to-gently slapped my cheek twice. “You wish, dear.”

  “Did you need something, Edith?” Taylor asked, thankfully steering the conversation in a direction that would make Edith leave more quickly.

  “Harry left for a meeting, but he forgot to talk to Bill about the running toilet in the bathroom. He called to ask me to tell you to do it.”

  “Why can’t you call and ask him?” My tone was accusing. There was no way Harry would tell me to go up and find Bill when Edith could accomplish the same task by picking up a phone.

  “Because I don’t run errands?” she said, the final word reflecting how distasteful the thought was.

  “You’re literally running one right now.”

  The glare she sent me would have flayed the skin off a weaker man. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Bill and I aren’t on speaking terms.”

  “Then send a carrier pigeon. Or, I don’t know, maybe an email.”

  “Sarcasm is an ugly look on you,” she spat.

  “Well, being a lying liar who lies is a bad look on you. I’m not doing your dirty work, Edith. I refuse.”

  She simply stood there, arms crossed over her chest, and stared at me.

  “I’m not backing down. He hates me ever since I broke the door last month.”

  “He hated you before that.”

  I gasped. “He did not.”

  She opened her mouth to retort with what was undoubtedly some other mistruth when Taylor spoke. “I’ll go.”

  “That’s…much less fun for me,” Edith grumbled.

  I smiled. “My hero.”

  “Shut up,” Taylor replied before heading for the door. “If I’m not back in ten minutes…just wait longer.”

  “That line has seriously never been funny,” I said, making her laugh as she left the room.

  “She’s a good one. You should try really hard not to screw it up.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Cruella.”

  Once Edith ran her icy gaze over everyone, she left, and I could’ve sworn the temperature rose without her evil presence blanketing the room.

  Bill came in behind Taylor about five minutes later, giving me a disapproving look as he made his way to the bathroom.

  “You know,” Taylor said as she sidled up beside me, “I always expected you to be liked by everyone. How wrong I was.”

  “You can’t judge by Bill and Edith. They hate everyone.” />
  “I dunno. Bill was very accommodating when I went up to see him.”

  “You’re gorgeous. He’d be a moron to be mean to you.”

  A slight hint of pink rose to Taylor’s cheeks as she bit her lip to keep from smiling. “You’re not too tough on the eyes yourself.”

  “Too bad Bill and Edith have shitty eyesight.”

  A laugh burst from her, and I felt supremely proud of myself for prompting that sound.

  “Taylor, can you help us tie the ends of our bracelets?” a little girl named Gianna asked.

  “Sure,” Taylor replied. The smile she bestowed on the girl was the most genuine one I’d seen since we got to work.

  I watched her walk over to where a few girls were huddled at the craft table before I went to hang out with the kids who were gathered around the game console Roddie had brought in.

  The rest of the night passed quickly, and before I knew it, Taylor and I were headed out to my truck. I walked around to open her door for her, getting a “such a gentleman” for the effort, but before I could swing it closed behind her, my phone started to ring.

  Looking down at it, I managed to hold back a groan, which was serious progress. “It’s Kari.” My mom had been calling more often recently, something I’d encouraged and was trying to stay open-minded about. But the years of bad blood between us were difficult to get past, and I often found myself annoyed with her before she even started speaking.

  Taylor kept her face blank as she said, “Answer it. We have time.”

  I leaned back against my truck next to Taylor’s still-open door. “Hello.”

  “Ransom, hi. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Kinda. “How are you?”

  “Doing pretty good. Just running around trying to help prepare for the reunion.”

  “That’s good that you’re staying busy.”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence stretched across the line, and it felt awkward and heavy. We didn’t know each other well enough to move beyond small talk often, but neither of us excelled at casual conversation. It was weird to have both so much and nothing at all to say.

  “So,” she began after a few moments. “About the reunion. I know you said you were going to think about it, and I was just wondering what you’d decided.”

  “Yeah, I did think about it, but I’m pretty busy up here. And Georgia is a little far to travel for a one-day event.”

  “Oh.”

  Her disappointment was evident, which made me feel like an asshole. No matter how much damage she’d done, she was still my mom, and hurting her made me feel like a jerk. But it was shit timing, and I also wasn’t sure I was ready to hang out with a bunch of family I barely knew. Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t sure where any of that family had been when I was being shuffled through the foster system.

  “Okay, I understand,” she continued. “Maybe I can come up to you sometime?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Taylor grabbing my arm stopped me. I looked over at her.

  “Let’s go,” she said quietly. Her eyes were pleading. “Let’s get away from here for a few days. Please.”

  I didn’t think she knew what she was really asking. Leaving town to go hang out with my family felt a bit like jumping out of a frying pan and into the fire. But as Taylor looked at me hopefully, I felt myself caving.

  “On second thought…is it okay if I bring my girlfriend with me to the reunion?”

  Matching female squeals on both sides of the phone almost made me forget what a dumpster fire this was going to be.

  Chapter Four

  R A N S O M

  “We didn’t really think this through, did we?” I grabbed the cups of coffee from where the barista had placed them on the counter and handed Taylor hers.

  “I did. And in your defense, I didn’t really give you a choice.”

  I laughed a little as I followed Taylor to a small table in front of the café. It had been unseasonably warm the last couple of days, and the cloudless sky meant we could get some fresh air while we enjoyed our drinks. Everything had been so crazy since Brad…happened. I can’t even allow myself to think the word. I’d barely had a chance to process any of it, especially the part where I’d agreed to go to a family reunion to see a family I barely knew. Prison might be a better option.

  “So how does all this work?” I asked. “I can probably just check with my professors.” I figured I wouldn’t have to miss more than two classes at the most, since I only had class a few days a week. I had pretty good grades, so I didn’t see it being a problem as long as I kept up with the work. “But then there’s the whole Safe Haven thing.”

  “I know. I feel bad about asking him for time off with such little notice—especially when it’s both of us.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly. “He does owe us, though.” Watching Harry’s insane dogs and his niece had been my choice, even if the latter had been more of an accident than an actual offer. Thank God Taylor had come to our rescue and helped. So even though the favor had been a big one—and one I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to repeat—I wasn’t the type of guy to cash in on something like that.

  I’d volunteered to help him and his husband because it was the right thing to do and he’d needed my help. Which was exactly why I knew that even if it would be an inconvenience to have Taylor and me out at the same time, he’d never say no, even if it meant filling in for one of us himself. I felt guilty about putting him in that position, but I was also glad I had the type of boss I could count on when I needed something.

  “I’ll talk to him. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’ll only be a few days.”

  “I bet if you tell Harry why we’re going, he’ll insist we go,” Taylor said.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper even though no one was sitting at the table beside us. “You want me to tell him we’re avoiding the police because we’re worried about being suspects in a murder investigation?”

  “Oh my God! No! I trust Harry, but I’m not sure he’s the type of guy who can handle knowing something like that. He’d probably explode with that kind of information trapped inside him. I meant telling him about the family reunion. You don’t have to share all the details about your past with him, but maybe if he knew you hadn’t seen your mom in a while, he’d understand why you felt you needed to go.”

  “Okay, that’s a little less jarring for him I think.”

  Taylor laughed, and it felt good to joke around a little, even if the jokes involved recent events. Maybe the investigation would lead nowhere, and Brad would just end up as another cold case that people would forget about.

  But as much as that thought comforted me, it also made me feel like shit.

  T A Y L O R

  I knew finding someone to cover for me at the Treehouse Bar and Grille while I was away wouldn’t be an issue. People practically begged for weekend shifts. I could work Monday night if needed, though Mondays were never busy, so I doubted I’d even have to come in at all.

  Our friends were supposed to be meeting at the Treehouse for dinner and drinks in about a half hour, but I’d gotten here early so I could talk to Jerry about taking off and hopefully find someone to cover me.

  I made my way over to the bar to see who was working tonight, and when I saw Jesse and Harmony, I knew they’d be all over the extra hours. Harmony had just started at the Treehouse two weeks ago, so she rarely received the good shifts, and Jesse already worked Friday and Saturday from lunch until whenever someone came to relieve him. But he had a baby on the way and would happily work the full night if he got the opportunity.

  I approached them excitedly with the offer, and they were just as excited to accept. That only left finding someone for my Sunday afternoon shift since both of them were already working.

  “You could always ask Gail,” Jesse suggested with his eyebrows raised as he grabbed some plates to take out to a table. “Sundays and Mondays are her days off.”

  Gail had been a host at the Treehouse since before
I started working here, but she’d recently begun waiting tables too. She didn’t exactly have the personality to get good tips, but I guess something was better than nothing.

  I pressed my lips together to show Jesse just how enthused I was with his suggestion. Gail was nice enough, but she wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. Not that I was. But Gail gave off a don’t fuck with me vibe, which sometimes translated into a don’t speak to me at all vibe.

  “Maybe I’ll just text Preston and Lila,” I said. “They might want it.”

  “Already working,” Harmony said. “Looks like Gail’s your best option.”

  “More like my only option,” I muttered with a glance in her direction. I put on a smile and headed over to the host station. “Hey, Gail.”

  Her short dark hair framed her face as she clicked around on the host station iPad. She looked up, and I could almost taste whatever oil she’d doused herself in—frankincense and some sort of floral mixture that reminded me of an old church.

  “Why do you look like a four-year-old posing for a picture with Santa?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what that means exactly.”

  “Like you’re trying to look happy but you wanna run away,” she explained, her attention dropping back down to the iPad she’d been using.

  I’d never heard a more accurate description of someone’s feelings. Though she seemed about as emotionally aware as a dish towel, Gail was a shockingly good read of people.

  “Because,” I said, keeping up my excitement, “I have an offer for you.”

  “I’m not interested in being a part of your hair-care product cult.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “I’m not…” I wasn’t sure exactly what she was talking about, so I continued. “I wanted to offer you my shift next Sunday.”

  “In exchange for what?” I saw the skepticism on her face. She probably wasn’t typically the recipient of people’s generosity, and though there was probably a reason for that, I still felt a little bad.

  “Nothing. Just tryin’ to help you out, that’s all.”

  A laugh shot out of her. “I doubt that. What is it? You need me to pee in a cup for you or something? I’m not saying no, but you should know I charge more than you’re probably willing to pay for that.”