Aced

“LET’S HOPE WE NEVER NEED it.”

“It’s strictly a precaution,” I say about the restraining order Rylee just signed at the police station against Eddie Kimball. I flip on my blinker, eyes scanning the rearview mirror to make sure we are still paparazzi-free, as I turn onto the unfamiliar street.

“I still disagree though. You should have one too.”

Nope. Not me. I hope the fucker comes face-to-face with me. Welcome the thought, actually. I’m jonesing for a chance to beat the truth out of him.

“I can more than handle myself,” I state calmly.

Her huff of disapproval is noted and ignored. I drive slowly through the tree-lined streets occasionally leaning over the console toward the passenger seat so I can read the house numbers on her side of the car. And in doing so, I’ve drawn her attention to figure out where we’re going and provided the perfect distraction to get her to drop the topic. For now, at least. I’m sure she’ll bring it up again but for now she’s diverted.

“Last stop,” I say as I pull up when I’ve found the correct house.

“Where are we?” she asks, curiosity in her tone as she cranes her neck to look around us.

“Proving one of us right,” I tell her. “Sit tight.”

I open the door and get out, shutting it on her questions, and walk around the car to the sidewalk. She opens her door and I glance over to her before she can get out. “Don’t.” A single word warning her to stay in the car. Our eyes lock, her temper flashing in hers, but my bite’s bigger and she knows it. So after a moment she mutters something under her breath but shuts the door without getting out.

Fuck if I’m not being an asshole. Like that’s something new. But at the same time, if I’m laying all my cards on the table, it has to be face-to-face. I can’t have the catfight bullshit I’m sure Ry would initiate if she were at my side: a distraction when I’m trying to call Tawny’s bluff.

I check the address once more as I walk up the concrete path, the daggers from Rylee’s glare burning holes into the back of my shoulders. The house is nothing special—a little run-down, flowers in the planters, a red wagon on the porch—and I can’t help but think it’s a long-ass way from the high-rise condo she had the last time I visited her.

I knock on the door. A dog barks nearby. I shift my feet. Take my sunglasses off because I want there to be no mistaking what I’m saying and how I mean it. Let’s get this done and fucking over with. Problem is when all’s said and done, I have a feeling I might be eating a little crow for Rylee, and I’ve heard it tastes like shit.

I should know better by now. Ry’s usually right when it comes to this kind of thing. Only one way to find out.

I knock again. Look over my shoulder to where Rylee sits in the car, window down, head tilted to the side as she tries to figure out what in the fuck I’m doing.

C’mon. Answer the damn door. I don’t have time for this shit. Wasted minutes.

Did she or didn’t she? That’s the big fucking question of the hour.

Tawny.

I grit my teeth at the name. At the person who has been dead to me. She may have been one of my oldest friends, but she tried to play me for a fool, tie me to her with her bullshit lies, and more than anything, fucked with Rylee. End. Of. Story.

My hands fist. Memories return. Temper flares.

The door swings open. I jolt seeing someone I don’t know at all anymore.

“Colton!” Her blue eyes widen in shock. The lines etched around them tell me life’s been tough. Too bad, so fucking sad. The beauty queen’s lost her crown. You fuck with people, you reap what you sow. Her hand immediately flies up to pat her hair and smooth down her shirt.

Don’t worry sweetheart, I wouldn’t even touch you with a ten-foot pole.

“What the fuck are you and Eddie trying to pull, Tawny?” I want to catch her off guard, see if I can glimpse a flicker in her eyes. Something. Anything. A goddamn clue whether she had a hand in this whole situation.

“What are you . . .?” Her voice fades as she shakes her head, eyes blinking as if she can’t believe I’m standing here. The feeling is mutual.

Cat got your tongue, T?

“Colton . . . please, come in.” She reaches out, puts her hand on my arm, and I yank it back in automatic reflex. Does she think I’m here for her? That maybe . . . fuck, I don’t know what she could be thinking, but obviously from the hurt that flashed in her eyes she sure as shit didn’t expect my rejection.

Good. At least the stage is set for this conversation. Her hopes dashed. All expectation out the damn door.

“No thanks. I’ve got better things waiting for me in the car,” I say with a lift of my chin. I then step to the side so she can see Rylee.

And so Rylee can see her. Understand why we’re here. That I listened to her, heard her, and am trying to get some answers. I just hope like hell Ry stays put so I can up the ante. Take the pot and finish this on my terms. Because I need to do that.

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh. Glad we got the fact I’m still married out of the way. Happily. Now, back to business.

“Tell me about the tape.” Images flash in my head: Ry crying on the phone with Teddy, Ry on the patio all by herself, the vulgar comments made beneath the video on YouTube about what other sick fucks want to do to her.

“What tape?” She shakes her head back and forth, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Cut the crap, T. I fell for your lies once upon a fucking time, and I’m a little short of change to buy them now.” I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Colton, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I’m not buying the innocent routine. “Did you watch TV at all this week? Go to the store? Read People magazine? Anything?”

“My son’s been sick for the past few days so unless you mean Scooby Doo on TV, no. Why? What’s going on?” she asks, tone defensive, and I purposely don’t answer. I want to use the silence as a way to make her nervous. She fidgets, shifts her feet, works her tongue in her cheek.

Goddamn it. Ry was right. She knows something. Fuckin’ A.

“Shit, I haven’t seen Eddie in over four years,” she finally says.

I stare at her, eyes determined to find some kind of deception in her words but all I see is the woman I used to know, curves a little fuller, clothes messy, and eyes tired.

And I don’t care how rough it seems life has been for her. Looks can be deceiving. I still don’t trust her. Not one bit. Not after what she did to us way the fuck back when and what I’m pretty sure she had a hand in now.

“Video footage has surfaced of Ry and me from six years ago. You’re the only one who knew where we were and what we did that night.” I let the comment hang in the space between us. She tries to hide her reaction—a lick of her lips, a quick look to the car driving down the street—but once you’ve had a relationship with someone, you can read them like a clock. Tick fucking tock. And I know she has more to say. “The Kids Now event. When Ry and I had sex in the parking garage. Footage of us is plastered all over the media, Tawny. You’re the only one who knew.”

She forces a swallow down her throat. A glance behind her where there are Hot Wheels all over the floor. A shift of her feet. A bite into her bottom lip. All done before she finally has the courage to meet my eyes again.

“Care to change your answer, now?”

“Oh my God,” she murmurs more to herself than to me. And something about the way she says it bugs me. It seems genuine, full of surprise, real. I call bullshit. She’s just playing the part without dressing up for the cameras. “I completely forgot about that video.”

“You forgot?” I sneer, sarcasm rich in my voice. “That’s awfully convenient.”

“No, really,” she says, reaching out to touch me, and then stopping presumably when she remembers my reaction the last time she tried. Smart woman.

“I’m losing my patience,” I say between gritted teeth.

“That night after I left the party, I met up with Eddie. We had some drinks. Too many. I told him about the charity event, seeing you and Rylee there, and what she had said about you guys on the hood of Sex. I was feeling angry, rejected, and didn’t think twice about it until after he was fired. That’s when he called me, livid and unhinged. Said he knew the perfect way to get back at you and that he had gotten hold of a video from that night. Had it in a safe place.”

Bingo. Dots connected. A confirmation. Now let’s try to complete the picture.

“And you never thought to tell me?” I shout. My hands flex as I resist the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her in frustration.

“It was a different time. You fired me shortly thereafter and I was furious, ashamed, disowned by my mother . . . so no, I’m sorry, Colton, I didn’t. I was so busy worrying about myself, being selfish.” She sighs, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. And I fucking hate when she looks up at me with clarity in her eyes I’ve never seen before. I don’t want to see it but I can’t ignore it either. “I was a different person back then. Time . . . things . . . kids, life, it changes you.”

“Kids?” I snort out, holding my anger in front of me like a shield as I remember her shocking blindside all these years later. “You mean like the baby you lied about and tried to tell me was mine? Used as a pawn in your fucked-up games?” I take a step forward, fists clenched, anger owning me.

“Yes, as in that one,” she says her voice barely audible. “I . . . I’m so—”

“Save the apologies, Tawny. Your bullshit lies and accusations almost made me lose the most important person in the world.” The acrid taste of revulsion hits my tongue. “That’s something that doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

My words hit her like a one-two punch—hard, fast, and bruising. Does she think her quivering bottom lip will win me over? Make me forget the past?

Not hardly.

“I know,” she says giving me whiplash. I expected denial and defiance, attitude and arrogance, and she gives me neither. Our eyes hold for a long moment and fuck, all of a sudden I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time in a different light. Don’t fall for her act, Donavan. People like her don’t change. Can’t. It’s not possible.

But you changed.

The voice in the back of my head so very quiet, barely audible, sounds like a scream, causing me to bite back the snide comments as the unwelcome tang of doubt replaces them.

The look on Rylee’s face flashes in my mind from the day Tawny came waltzing in the house to tell me she was pregnant with my baby. A manipulative game by one of the masters. Too bad for her I was a master at it myself. Had no problem going up to the plate against her curveballs. But Rylee . . . she didn’t even have a bat in her hand.

I hold onto that thought—Ry’s tears, the nasty fight, the break we took—all of it, and tell the tiny ounce of pity I feel for Tawny to take a fucking hike. She brought this upon herself. Not me. Not Rylee. Just her.

Tawny starts to speak and then stops. “If I had known that Eddie really had a tape . . . or what he was going to do, I would have told you.”

I stare at her, leery of the sudden decency that doesn’t fit with the memory of the woman I used to know, and deliver a visual warning: You better not be fucking with me.

“Tell me what you know.” My voice is gruff, incapable of believing her or that the years have changed her enough she’d actually look out for me. She’d have told me, my ass.

Would she have?

Does it really fucking matter, Donavan? Get as much info as you can, turn your back, and walk away. You don’t need to know if she’s changed, wonder if life has been rough for her, because the only thing that matters is the woman sitting in the car behind you.

“Honestly—”

“I’d like to believe that honesty is something you’re capable of but you’re not the one dealing with . . .” I let my words fall off, catch myself from letting her have a glimpse into my private life. Don’t want her to know about the butterfly effect this video she knew about is having on everything in Rylee’s life. Because if she’s playing me and is behind this—somehow, someway—then she’ll have gotten exactly what she was looking for: hurting Rylee, which hurts me. And while I may be sympathetic at times, it’s only toward my wife, only with the boys, and only with those I care about. Tawny and I may have a past together, but she is most definitely not any of those people.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear it but I fucked up. Was in a bad place with pressures you have no idea about and I won’t use as an excuse . . . but it was a long time ago. Like I said, I’m a different person now, Colton. I don’t expect you to believe me . . . to know I’m sorry for the games I played, but I am.” We hold each other’s gaze, my jaw clenched tight, pulse pounding.

I expected to come here, fight with her, and threaten her to get some answers. Not in a million years did I expect her to be like this: apologetic, decent, sincere. And so the fuck what if she is? It changes nothing. Top priority is getting answers so I can try to make my wife whole again.

“At first I thought he was lying about the tape,” she says, breaking through my warring thoughts. “I thought he was trying to get in my pants by feeding my spite over you choosing Rylee, because . . . well, because it was Eddie. You know how untrustworthy he was.”

She leans her back against the doorjamb and I shift my feet, wanting to rush this, get the fuck away from here, but I need more. Seeing her causes the memories to resurface. The lies she told. Her manipulative ways. How I thought she’d been in cahoots with Eddie in stealing the blueprints way the fuck back when. Despite investigators and depositions, and every other legal means under the sun CJ couldn’t find shit to prove she was involved. To say I had a hard time believing she was innocent is an understatement. But I did. Had no choice.

The question is, do I believe that now?

“Did you ever watch it?” And it’s a stupid question, but the thought of her of all people watching Ry and me have sex seems ten more times intrusive than the other millions of people who have.

“No. Never,” she says definitively, earning her a rise of my eyebrow in disbelief. “Really. That’s why I never thought twice about it.”

Great. Now I’ve given her the idea to go watch it. Brilliant, Donavan. Fucking brilliant. But then again, I had to ask. Had to know.

I blow out a breath, roll my shoulders, and ask the one question left that makes no fucking sense to me. “If he had the video though, why wait all this time?”

She angles her head as she stares at me, feet shifting, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know, Colton. I just don’t know.”

Impatient, uncomfortable, and still a little thrown by this new woman in front of me that looks the same but sounds so very different, I just nod my head, turn my back, and stride down the walk to my car. I don’t know what else to do. There is no good in goodbye here. There’s just the closing of a door on another chapter of my past.

“Colton.”

Every muscle in my body tenses—feet want to keep walking—yet curiosity stops me dead in my tracks. With my back to her, I wait for her to say whatever it is she wants to say.

“It’s good to see you happy. It suits you. I know now that’s because of Rylee.”

I lift my eyes to meet Rylee’s at the same time Tawny speaks. I hear her statement, take it for what it is, and don’t try to find a hidden meaning or an underlying dig. With eyes locked on Rylee’s, I nod my head in acknowledgement and walk toward the car.

Time can change people. The woman with violet eyes staring back at me? She’s my living proof that I’ve done just that, changed.

Tawny might have changed too, yet I don’t have the effort to care right now. I have a wife that is more important than the air I fucking breathe, and being this close to Tawny, I’m starting to suffocate.

I need my air.