Steady Rain [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Read online

  “And you are?” the doctor asked.

  “His fiancé.” Tristan didn’t take his eyes off Kyle. “You’re not allowed to fucking scare me like this, dude. Didn’t I tell you that rule?”

  It earned him a slight smile. “Sorry. I don’t think we negotiated those terms yet.”

  He couldn’t be hurt too badly if he was trying to crack jokes. Now convinced Kyle wasn’t dying on him, Tristan backed off to the corner of the room and out of the way so they could finish taking care of him.

  And so he could calm his own racing pulse before he had a heart attack.

  Not only did Kyle have a bad gash on his forehead, but one on the back of his head, both of them needing sutures.

  “Once we finish stitching him up, we’re going to send him to radiology,” the doctor said. “I want a CT scan of his head, and we need to look at his knee and see what’s going on there. And we need to talk about a possible concussion.”

  “I have to work tomorrow,” Kyle said.

  “Like hell you do,” Tristan said. “You can’t drive right now.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Mr. Lind,” the doctor said, “let’s see what’s going on first. You might be spending the night here.”

  “It’s just a headache from getting brained twice. I’ve had worse. I’ve accidentally done worse to myself at work trying to clean out a damn cement mixer drum.”

  “All the same, I want to make sure there’s nothing serious going on.”

  “Dude,” Tristan said, “I will totally go full Dom on your ass if you don’t listen to the doctor.”

  Kyle glared at him for a moment, but then stuck his tongue out at him and let them stitch him up.

  Meanwhile, a deputy and a detective came in to talk with Kyle and get a statement from him, as well as take pictures of his injuries. Once they finished that, Kyle was wheeled out to radiology. Tristan took a moment to walk out to the waiting room and update Marilyn, who he found now talking to the deputy and detective.

  “He’s getting x-rays,” he told her when she looked up at him. “He should be okay, but they want to see how bad his knee is and make sure the head injury isn’t serious.”

  “Oh, thank god.”

  “Is he gonna be okay?” Dillon asked.

  “I think so, buddy. Hey, do you want to come wait back there with me? You can see him when they bring him back from radiology.”

  “Can I, Mommy?”

  It wasn’t pure altruism on Tristan’s part. He didn’t want Dillon having to sit there and listen to whatever Marilyn still had to tell the cops.

  No kid needed to be in the middle of that.

  “Yeah.” From Marilyn’s expression, Tristan could tell he’d been on the mark there, too. “Thanks, Tristan. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” He held out a hand to Dillon. “Come on. He’ll be happy to see you.”

  He walked back with Dillon after getting him a badge and they waited in the room.

  “So how was school today, champ?”

  Dillon looked up at him. “You don’t want to ask me what happened?”

  “Buddy, I know it had to be scary.”

  Dillon solemnly nodded. “There was blood all over the place, and he wasn’t moving at first, until I screamed for Mommy. We passed Louis’ car down the street on our way home. I saw him, but I don’t think Mommy did.”

  Shit. “Did you tell the cops that?”

  “Yeah. They already talked to me.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “I hope he goes to jail. I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me.”

  “You know you can always ask your mom to bring you to our place to visit, if you call us first.”

  “What about Jess?”

  “She likes you.” She just rightfully hates your mother for being a bitch.

  “I heard Mom talking to Louis that Jess left after a fight.” He didn’t sound happy. “Wasn’t Mom’s business to be talking about. Especially not to him.”

  Goddammit. Yeah, he’d be having a private convo with Marilyn about keeping her fucking mouth shut, all right. “Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it sorted out.”

  “Does Jess know about Kyle yet?”

  Good grief, this was snowballing. “I’ll call her later. Right now, I don’t have anything to tell her. I don’t want to scare her.”

  “Please?”

  Tristan studied the boy when a perfectly horrible idea he knew he might regret came to mind.

  Certainly an idea he knew Kyle would nix if he told him about it first.

  Forgiveness instead of permission. “You want to call Jess for me?” Tristan asked him.

  He nodded.

  It was low and underhanded and shitty…and if it worked, he’d live with the guilt.

  “Let’s call her, buddy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jess had managed to successfully avoid the men over the past week and a half. They’d finally stopped calling and texting her.

  She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.

  Not to mention she avoided the club, even parked on the far side of the complex, at a different building, so the guys wouldn’t see her truck sitting there, or she went over to Michelle’s house for the evening.

  Of course she’d also had an out-of-town job, which had helped her avoid the men.

  If Mark, Josh, and Ted knew there was something going on, they didn’t let on. She damn sure didn’t say anything.

  She’d spent every morning puking her guts up and crying over the guys.

  Fuck this shit sideways.

  She had a chance to make a good life for herself, a decent life. She wasn’t going to let two horny guys—no matter how handsome and sexy and good in the sack they were—fuck it up for her.

  No matter how much she missed their damn asses.

  No matter how lonely she felt in the wake of what she’d thought the three of them had.

  No matter how many excuses her brain tried to make for her to, oh, call them and finish it once and for all.

  She’d ignored red flags with Brad, and look where the fuck it got her.

  Except there hadn’t been any red flags with Kyle and Tristan. Not really. Well, other than the whole Marilyn thing.

  She had tomorrow and the next day off. So this evening, she planned on holing up in the apartment with Stanley, drinking a well-deserved bottle of wine, and watching movies.

  And crying.

  Probably lots of crying.

  That was a given. Seemed like she did a lot of that lately.

  Eventually, she knew she’d have to talk to the men, preferably in a neutral, public place, and tell them she was done. Although ignoring their attempts to contact her had to be a damn clue to them how she felt.

  Except she didn’t want to say it.

  To admit she’d fucked up yet again and misjudged someone.

  Someones, plural.

  Because yes, she fucking loved the idiots, even though she hadn’t said it to either of them.

  Thank gawd she hadn’t said it to either of them.

  Maybe they’ll just go away.

  But if she left things unresolved, it’d be uncomfortable encountering them at munches or rope events…

  Fuck.

  Despite the heavy rain, she hit the grocery store, picked up Stanley from Michelle, and headed home. She’d just pulled into the complex when her phone rang—Tristan’s number.

  A deep ache rolled inside her—or maybe that was the sketchy roadside barbecue they’d had for lunch in Arcadia finally catching up with her—as she thumbed the call to voice mail.

  No, she wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

  Not by a long-shot.

  He left a message, because the alert went off.

  After walking Stanley and unloading and putting away her groceries, she decided to deal with this now, before she took her shower. She’d tell Tristan sorry, it was over, done, no hard feelings—which was totally a lie, bu
t she could pretend to adult with the best of them—and they didn’t have to avoid her at events.

  Then she could spend the rest of the evening crying into her wine and tomorrow take a hard look at her life choices.

  Except when she looked at the text transcript preview in her voice mail…it seemed to be from Dillon?

  She hit play.

  “Hi, Jess. This is Dillon calling from Tristan’s phone. Kyle’s in the hospital. Louis hurt him. I asked Tristan to let me call you. Me and Mom came home and there was blood everywhere. Bye.”

  “Da fuq?” Surely she misheard that. She replayed the message once, then a second time.

  Hands trembling, she called Tristan’s phone.

  Dillon answered.

  “Hi, Jess! You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  She had to regroup since she was talking to a nine-year-old boy and not Tristan. “No, honey, I’m not mad at you. But I—”

  “Good, because Tristan was gonna wait to call you later and tell you, and I asked him to let me call and tell you, because I knew you’d want to know now, and—”

  “Honey, let me talk to Tristan, please?”

  “You’re not gonna yell at him, are you? Because—”

  “No, sweetie, I’m not going to yell at him.” She rubbed her forehead as she realized she’d missed Dillon, too. That surprised her. “Please let me talk to Tristan.”

  “Okay. Here he is. Don’t yell at him.”

  Tris didn’t sound anything like himself when he took his phone back. “Hey.”

  “What the hell happened? Is Kyle okay?”

  “He’s still in radiology. They wanted a CT scan of his knee and his head. Probably to see if he has a brain. I told them don’t waste their time looking.”

  She closed her eyes and struggled not to laugh. “I swear if this is made up—”

  “We’re in the ER at Proctor-Collins. Marilyn’s out in the waiting room talking to the cops. I brought Dillon in here with me because they already talked to him and I didn’t want him listening to it all again from her end.”

  Marilyn. Of course she had to be all up in it.

  What little thaw had started in her soul froze right the hell over again. “I see.”

  “I know. Look…hey, buddy, sit right here for me for a minute, okay?”

  She heard Dillon in the background. “Okay.”

  “Hold on.” It sounded like he closed a door or something behind him. When he spoke again, his voice sounded low. “I was finishing up at work when she called me. Apparently, Louis sucker-punched him from behind out in the garage. Kyle fell and smacked his head and wrenched his knee damn good. Knocked him out, two scalp lacerations bled all over the place. Kyle told them not to let Marilyn back into the ER with him because she wasn’t his girlfriend. Just you or me.”

  She tried to process that. “You’re his girlfriend now?”

  “You know what I mean. Jess, please.”

  She took a deep breath. “If he’s going to be okay, sounds like you don’t need me there. Especially if Marilyn’s there.”

  “Honey, he was over there today trying to get the coupe to a point he can load it on a trailer and move everything. He hasn’t even told Marilyn that yet. He wants to move all his shit out of there and completely cut ties with her. We love you.”

  She closed her eyes and wished she wasn’t crying. “What about Dillon?” she managed.

  “He’s willing to walk away from him if it means you’ll give us another chance.”

  “But he loves Dillon.”

  “Yeah, and he loves you, and Dillon’s not his son. I love you. Honey, I swear, you’re the only woman we want. He was hoping to get the coupe moved by next week, and then we’d sit there at your apartment and wait for you to show up or come out or…something else equally stalkery and borderline creepy. Please?”

  Was she really stupid enough to think about going back to them?

  Hell, she felt exhausted and sooo fucking hormonal ahead of her period, like twenty times worse than usual.

  And she missed them.

  Because…what if Kyle had died and she’d never been able to settle this with him?

  To admit to the stupid ass that she loved them both?

  “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  She crated Stanley and headed back out without bothering to take a shower. She wasn’t stinky, but she was damp from the rain. At least it’d give her a good out sooner rather than later.

  Marilyn stood in the waiting room, talking to two uniformed deputies, when Jess walked into the ER. Marilyn glanced her way, then down.

  Ashamed, if Jess had to guess.

  Jess focused on the guy at the front desk and, moments later, had a visitor’s pass and was heading back.

  Dillon and Tristan sat in the cubicle the guy at the desk had directed her to, but no bed, no Kyle.

  “Jess!” Dillon stood and threw himself at her legs in a stranglehold of a hug while Tristan’s sad brown gaze held hers.

  No, she couldn’t be a dick and make them cut Dillon out of Kyle’s life. Dillon was a kid. It wasn’t his fault his mother was relationship-stupid.

  Then again, so was I.

  She also knew first-hand what it was like to be raised by dysfunctional people, and to rely on outsiders who became adopted family to give something resembling a healthy, nurturing balance to her life.

  Tris stood but didn’t make a move toward her.

  She didn’t blame him.

  She stepped forward and hugged him, not missing how hard and long he held her.

  “I love you, babe,” he whispered in her ear. “We both do. I swear, whatever we have to do to prove it, we will. Anything.”

  It felt like the dam she’d hastily built around her heart was starting to crack. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered. Then she drew back just enough to look him in the eyes again but not break their embrace. “I love you guys, too.”

  He slanted his lips over hers and it took everything she had to struggle to not break down crying as she kissed him back.

  This wasn’t a sure-thing, but it sure as hell felt better than the past week and a half had felt.

  Admitting her feelings out loud to him felt scary.

  Damned scary.

  Terrifying.

  Because it meant she was once again giving them the power to hurt her in bad ways.

  They settled in the chairs to await Kyle’s return, Dillon sitting on Tristan’s lap and getting her caught up on what he was up to in school, and what books he was reading, and…everything.

  She’d missed the kid. Dillon was a likable boy.

  She found herself tipping her head over onto Tristan’s shoulder and he draped his arm around her, coaxing her to lean against him.

  Maybe this was better. They couldn’t really talk because of Dillon. No heavy conversations to be had.

  She could delay that.

  They let Dillon pick whatever he wanted to watch on the TV and sat there in slightly uncomfortable silence. She knew Tris had things to say to her, too, but Dillon’s presence was their mutual safety net, for now.

  That she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about Marilyn being relegated to the waiting room told her a lot about her feelings.

  When they wheeled Kyle back into the cubicle thirty minutes later, Jess felt the pleasant lurch her heart took when his blue eyes locked on her and he smiled.

  Yeah, I have it bad for them.

  “Kyle!” Dillon said, jumping up to greet him. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be, buddy.”

  “Hey, you,” she said, leaning in to kiss Kyle. She tried to ignore the bandage on his forehead, and the large air brace on his right knee, because it made her queasy to think about how close he came to a serious and not-so-happy outcome.

  No, seriously queasy, like she nearly hurled and barely held it back.

  “Hey.” He reached for her hand and squeezed hard. “You came.”

  “Yeah. I came.”

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry we made you think we were—”

  “Shh.” She squeezed his hand and tipped her head toward Dillon. “We’ll talk later. Do you have to spend the night?”

  “No,” the doctor said, walking in. “I think he’s got a mild concussion, but no obvious signs of trauma and no brain bleeds. We’re going to get him some crutches, though. Fortunately, his knee is just a severe sprain, so he needs to keep weight off it for a couple of weeks. But you should follow up with your regular doctor if the swelling doesn’t go down or the pain doesn’t decrease. And we’re going to give you information on how to take care of him and what symptoms to watch for in case the concussion symptoms worsen.”

  In another thirty minutes, Kyle had his crutches, discharge paperwork, and was out the door with a prescription for antibiotics for his lacerations. They’d used dissolvable sutures, so he wouldn’t have to go back to the doctor to have them removed. He’d also received a tetanus shot, because he was overdue for one.

  Marilyn stood when the nurse wheeled Kyle out in a wheelchair, Tristan carrying his crutches for him. Dillon ran over to Marilyn.

  “He’s gonna be okay, Mom. Did they arrest Louis yet?”

  It was with no small measure of satisfaction that Jess noticed Marilyn looked a little sick. “Not yet, baby. They’re looking for him.”

  “You’re gonna need to change your locks,” Kyle said. “Can’t believe you gave him a key to your house when you’ve got Dillon. And I’m not doing it for you. No offense, but I’m cutting the cord.”

  She nodded, looking abashed.

  They wheeled him outside to the curb under the covered drive, where Tristan handed the crutches off to Jess and ran through the drizzling rain to get his SUV.

  “I’m really sorry, Kyle,” Marilyn said. “Look, I can take the day off tomorrow and come over and—”

  “I already have the next two days off,” Jess coolly said. “Tris doesn’t work Saturday and Sunday. We have it covered, don’t worry.”

  She gave herself adulting points for not adding a bitch to the end of that statement.

  Kyle reached back and patted Jessica’s arm, gently squeezing. “Marilyn, I think you’d better take Dillon home. He needs dinner, and it’s been an upsetting day for him. I appreciate you coming to the hospital, and calling Tristan for me, but Jess and Tristan will take me home and take care of me. They’ll come by later tonight to pick up my truck.”