Pushing it all from my mind, I dropped the phone beside me on the sofa, exchanging it for the TV remote that proved everything was pissing me off today: the usually hilarious sitcoms, Ellen, and even the little old woman on QVC selling pearls.
With a discouraged groan and nothing interesting to capture my brooding mind, I got dressed, climbed in my car, and drove. With no destination planned, I ended up in my mother’s driveway.
She wasn’t home, but her boyfriend, George, was. He shot off the couch when I threw my coat over the back of it, previously oblivious to the fact that I was there.
Our gazes met—his complete with bulging eyes, and mine, for some ungodly reason, dropping to the tighty whities he wore. Those things looked good on very few men, and George was unfortunately not one of them.
As if just realizing he was showing way too much—and sporting what looked unmistakably and disturbingly like morning wood—he snatched the crocheted pillow my grandmother had knit to cover himself.
I spun around, embarrassed for us both. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” In fact, I wasn’t even aware you were shacking up with my mom at all.
“No, my fault,” George said quickly. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”
I nodded, my back still facing him, listening as he shuffled out of the room.
Good God, that did not just happen. Could I not catch a break? There were some things I’d have liked to be kept in the loop on—like not being able to visit my childhood home without enduring awkward run-ins with half-naked men I hardly knew.
Just as I began thinking up a convincing excuse to leave, George proved to be as much a gentleman as my mother had portrayed him. He strolled back out fully dressed in slacks, a polo, and an easy smile.
“Cassandra, I can’t apologize enough.”
“It’s fine, really.” Can we just pretend it never happened? Is that too much to ask?
He stopped in front of me, relaxed and friendly. “I’m sorry. This is still your home, and I shouldn’t have fallen asleep out here, especially without—”
I threw my hands up, not needing a visual. “No problem. Really—we’re good.”
He nodded, smiling with a slight chuckle. “Well, how about we just—”
“Already forgotten, seriously,” I interrupted.
“I was going to say have a soda, but that’s good to hear too.”
Unsure how to respond and slightly off balance, I laughed. Surprisingly, it was a real, feel-good kind of laughter.
“Your mom’s shift ends soon. Why don’t you stick around? She’d love to see you.”
“Sure. She got anything to eat in the fridge?” My mom rarely had anything other than snack foods in her kitchen, but it was worth asking about anyway.
“Yeah, I keep it stocked for her,” he said with a small smile. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll whip something up?”
I didn’t complain as I watched him disappear into the kitchen. He emerged a few minutes later with turkey sandwiches and sodas.
“You feeling okay?” he asked. “You look tired.”
I sipped my cola, rolling the chilly can in my palm. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t sleep well, that’s all. So you’re living here now?”
That could’ve come out a little less blunt, but George took it in stride, smiling as he gave the room a once-over.
“Nah, I just stay over from time to time. Your mom’s not a fan of my bachelor pad, so we spend most of our time here—that is, until we get it sold.”
Soda almost spattered from my mouth. I swallowed, wincing at the burn as it slid down my throat.
“Sold?”
His jaw dropped, eyes widening. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I thought your mom told you.”
“Told me what!? She’s selling the house!?” I nearly shrieked. Can this week get any worse? That house was as much a sanctuary as my grandparents’. Why would she want to sell it?
“We talked about living here together, but thought it best to make a fresh start in our own place—build new memories together, in a place to grow old in.”
“Right,” was all I could say. A change of subject was needed as the cruel sting of bittersweet tears hit me. Before they could fall, I decided to go for the giant elephant in the room.
“Any word on Kurt’s case?”
The look on his stunned face served exactly the purpose I needed, settling my blossoming tears. The man worked at the prison where Kurt had died. He had to know something.
“Ah.” He swiped his cheek with his hand, his eyes looking everywhere but at me. “I can’t really talk about that.”
I sat up straighter in the chair. He did know something.
Flipping to the doe-eyed expression my grandfather could never turn away from, I batted my eyelashes. Sad eyes got a lot out of a man—especially one planning to marry your mother.
George’s lips quirked despite his grunt of disapproval at my tactic. “This is strictly off the record, and if you repeat any of it, I’ll deny ever telling you. Got it?”
My head bobbed, a grin firmly in place. “Got it. Lips sealed.”
He took a second before he spoke, worrying me that he was having second thoughts.
“The DA has nothing but the cellmate’s statement, which claims Kurt told him that if anything happened to him, Logan West was behind it. A few of his buddies inside corroborated that as well. But those ones won’t stick; it's just hearsay. The cellmate’s is the focus.”
My frown was instant. I already knew all that. But before I could tell him so, he continued.
“I’m sorry, but between that, Logan’s priors, and the rumors spreading that Kurt’s trip to the infirmary during his last stint was somehow related to Logan, it looks like the DA is moving forward.”
“Forward?” I gasped.
George nodded once, his eyes soft. “Not sure when, but they’re about to announce your boyfriend as an official suspect and bring him down to the station.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Priors?”
He nodded again, the movement disturbing me further. How could he sit there so calmly while I was a bundle of kindling, doused dangerously with lighter fluid?
“Logan has a couple arrests on record for assault. One was with a deadly weapon—he beat a man with a baseball bat.”
“What?” The word escaped as a soft, unbelieving whisper that hung between us.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already told you too much.”
He stood and I leapt up, blocking him from leaving the room.
“You love my mother, right?” I demanded, my voice cracking.
He hit me again with that damn nod, although this time it was slow. His features were wary; he was unsure where I was going with my question.
“Going to buy a home together probably means you’re planning to marry her, yeah?” I continued.
“Cassandra—”
“That makes you family.” I raised my chin, demanding his full attention. “I know we’re practically strangers, but family helps each other out and sticks together. And if you’re going to be part of mine, that makes you part of Logan’s, because he’s my family—my world. And there’s a precious little boy involved that depends on his father. So please tell me everything.”