Trust Me (Last Stand 1) - Page 86/100

When no one spoke, Oliver appealed to his mother. “Mom?”

She nodded in Noah’s direction. Noah straightened and met Oliver’s eyes. “I—I don’t know how to say this, Oliver.” Tears filled his eyes, began to drip down his cheeks.

“What is it?” Oliver said again. “Has someone died?”

“No. Thank the Lord it isn’t that,” his mother murmured, but Oliver could barely hear her because Noah was talking again.

“Jane and I had an affair,” he mumbled. “While you were in prison.”

At first, Oliver was convinced he’d misunderstood. Surely, his brother didn’t say what he’d thought he said. Wendy was sitting right there; his parents were in the room. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “I’m so sorry.” Wendy placed a comforting hand on her husband’s thigh as the tears were coming faster now.

Oliver swallowed hard, his brother’s confession spinning around and around in his head. Jane and I had an affair…. “You slept with my wife?” he said. “All those cold nights when I was lying awake in San Quentin, pining for Jane, she was f**king you?”

They all glanced awkwardly at each other, obviously uncomfortable with his language. He didn’t typically use obscenities. It was too low-class, and Oliver aspired to something higher. But that was what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? Noah and Jane had been going at it like animals.

And that was probably why she was leaving him now. Oliver had blamed so much on Skye. In a roundabout way, Skye was responsible, even for this, because he would never have gone to prison without her testimony. But she hadn’t forced Noah to usurp his position in Jane’s bed.

If he couldn’t trust his own brother, who could he trust?

“I—I had to come clean, Oliver,” Noah was saying, “to tell Wendy and you and everyone else. I couldn’t stand the constant lies, couldn’t look myself in the eye anymore. I don’t understand how it happened in the first place. But now the spell is broken. I—I won’t ever make a mistake like that again. And I hope that, someday, you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Forgive him? Oliver almost laughed aloud. What kind of man screwed his brother’s wife, then went to him to say, “Oops, sorry.” And Jane—how could Jane deceive him all that time?

He remembered the last call he’d placed from prison, when Noah had been at his house. Jane had said Noah was there to fix the plumbing. Now he knew the only plumbing his brother had been working on was hers.

The images that passed through his mind made him sick. He’d been wrong about Jane. She was no better than all the other women in his life, women like Miranda Dodge, Patty Poindexter, Skye Kellerman. They thought they were too good, that if they held out long enough someone better would come by.

“You’re the reason she’s leaving me,” he said.

Noah’s gaze dropped to the carpet. “I—I tried to break if off with her. She just…didn’t want to let it die. But I know she’ll come around. She’s confused, like the rest of us. Maybe we can get some counseling, do something to heal after everything we’ve been through. I’m willing to do whatever’s necessary.”

“He’s sorry,” Betty reiterated. “He didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“We have to do what we can to hold our family together,” Wendy said. “I’m doing my best to forgive him, to save our relationship. I’m hoping, after you’ve had a chance to think about it, that you’ll be able to do the same with Jane.”

“You’re letting him back in your bed after what he’s done?” Oliver asked.

Wendy flushed. “He made a mistake, Oliver. They both did. It was a difficult situation. He was going over there all the time to help out, he felt sorry for Jane, and she was so lonely. Please, try to understand.”

“I don’t want to understand,” he said. “I was in prison when he stole my wife.”

Noah visibly blanched. “I feel terrible.”

Witnessing his humiliation, Oliver felt almost triumphant. He’d always been second-best to Noah—second-best in his father’s affections, second-best in his mother’s admiration, second-best in the esteem of others. Noah had been tall and handsome and far more athletic than Oliver. He’d been much more successful with the girls. But that was just the point. Noah had all that—and still he’d taken Jane, Oliver’s one prize.

What kind of brother did that?

A dead one, he decided. “Get Kate,” he said dully.

Betty wrung her hands. “Oliver, I—I don’t know if you should take Kate tonight. This is all so fresh and painful, and—and you’re upset. I wouldn’t want her to hear about any of this. Let’s spare her what we can, okay?”

“Get my daughter before Jane returns with the police.”

“Oliver—”

Standing, he avoided her clutching hands and strode quickly down the hallway. “Kate? Kate, your dad’s here. Let’s go.”

There was no answer. The others trailed after him, arguing, apologizing, cajoling and trying to convince him he should leave Kate behind for the night. But he ignored them. Reaching the door to his daughter’s room, he swung it wide—only to find it empty.

23

“Grandma wasn’t very nice tonight,” Jeremy said.

David glanced in his rearview mirror. It was after midnight, but his son seemed wide-awake as they drove home from Skye’s. “She’s not very happy with me right now, I’m afraid.”

“She said you’re a scum-sucking pig, like all men.”

David wanted to say something about what a nasty old crone she was, but he held his tongue. “People sometimes say things they don’t mean when they’re upset,” he said and thought that was pretty generous, coming from a scum-sucking pig.

“Is that why Mommy said you’re worse than Grandpa? That you’re gonna run off and leave us and you don’t even care that she’s going to die?”

“She’s not going to die.” He hoped. “And I’d never leave you, you know that. Your mother and her mother are just confused.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes, then Jeremy spoke again. “I heard Mom tell Grandma that Skye wants to spread her legs for you.”

This angered David more than anything else. Lynnette should be more careful about what she said in front of their son. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, playing dumb.