Chapter 40
“Mmm.” I snuggled deeper into the warmth surrounding me. Shifting, I grumbled when my pillow didn’t conform to my sleeping comforts.
“Comfy?” A low-rumbling chuckle vibrated against my cheek.
Cracking an eye, I glared up at him. Other parts of me woke up at his smile.
Parts I was banned from using for a while.
Stupid doctors who saved my life. I didn’t know if it was because it was nearly a month since the shooting or it was because it was Ty, but my need to have him touching other parts of me, preferably using the mouth I loved so much, was intense.
Burrowing into him, I enjoyed the delicious warmth of having Ty as my human mattress and blanket.
An amused hoot sounded, and I shifted my head just enough…Oh.
Ducking my head, I cringed. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
Ty’s hand massaged my scalp. “No one blames you, scribbler.”
That didn’t make it better. I was getting tired of being so tired I fell asleep at random moments.
It had happened on and off since I’d woken up, a vestige of the coma, and a side effect of the large doses of medication I was still required to take.
However, falling asleep with my fork in my hand while eating, I felt, was a bit much.
Yawning, I gave the people around me, all of whom were trying to be quiet out of consideration for me, a sheepish look. “Sorry, guys.”
Abby waved me off. “Just like you, thinking everyone was being considerate of you. I’ll have you know they were so enraptured by my brilliance they were speechless.”
“That’s it.” Delilah snorted. This set off a round of bickering, Abby proving she was just as looney as her sister, and Delilah proving teenage sass was a weapon of its own.
The sounds of the party resumed, and I felt the first twist of my stomach, knowing they’d all been quiet for me to sleep.
It was ironic. I’d nearly died, and when I thought about it, all I felt was sadness at what I’d almost lost. Inconvenience people at my own party, and the anxiety demon inside me woke up and started feeding.
Ty gripped my head just firmly enough to force me to look at him. “I love you.” He leaned down and kissed me, his firm lips moving softly and sweetly against mine.
A different hunger that needed feeding unfurled inside me, trumping all other feelings.
Ty had done this every time I’d started to spiral since I’d woken up.
I was coming to think that if they could bottle him, no one would ever be anxious again.
But I was also a selfish bitch and refused to share, so the cure would only be mine.
At the same time, another hunger, a more physiological one, decided to make its presence known with a loud vicious growl.
“Hungry?” Ty murmured against my lips.
The indelicate growl of my stomach was his answer. “I guess I should eat.”
I sat up slowly with his help, wincing when the movement caused fire to break out in my chest. I breathed through the flames as they burned, until I was sure I wasn’t going to puke.
Getting shot sucked. Yeah, but being dead is worse, so which would you prefer? the voice in my head asked.
“Here.” My mom came over, handing me a glass of ginger ale. “Why don’t you get her some food, Ty?”
Ty tensed.
“What’s wrong?” I sipped the ginger ale, realizing there was an eerie quiet in the room.
The whole house, actually. The only sounds I could hear were the kids playing in the backyard.
A backyard that was finished along with the rest of the house thanks to Dalton and the people who’d volunteered to make Winterbourne Manor everything I’d ever dreamed. A home to come home to.
“It will be fine,” my mom reassured Ty, using the tone of voice I knew as a child meant she wasn’t going to countenance any argument.
“What will be—”
She was standing in the doorway between the living room and the formal dining room.
It all came rushing back. The confrontation on the front lawn, Daddy decking Jeremy, and Cady-Jo.
“She doesn’t have to stay.” Ty’s hand rubbed my back. He cursed. “You know what, this isn’t a good idea. Mom, you need to go.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” my mother proclaimed, giving Ty a look. It was a cross between amusement and stern authoritarianism.
I fixated on Cady-Jo, and she met me head-on. We both remembered the last time she and I were in this room together. It was there between us. Something shifted in her hand, and I didn’t look at it. Everyone was gawking at us, some in curiosity, some in concern, others in confusion.
Grabbing Ty’s hand, I squeezed, not taking my gaze off Cady-Jo. “It’s okay, Ty.” He fell silent at my quiet words.
Cady-Jo didn’t look anywhere but directly at me. Not at the way Ty had his arm around me. Not at where my hand rested on his.
“Baby, you don’t have to do this.”
I could hear the tension in Ty’s voice, the fear. The anger.
Finally, I broke away. Ty’s face was strained, his whole big body a mass of anxiety. For the first time, I realized the shoe was on the other foot. I was usually the anxious one, and he the one to offer comfort. I didn’t like seeing Ty like this, knowing how it felt.
“I love you,” I repeated his words, the emotion behind them unmistakable.
Leaning forward carefully—fast movements are a dumb idea, Phoebe—I kissed him.
If there was one thing I wasn’t concerned with anymore, it was keeping my love for Ty hidden.
My kissing him was a message to him and a message to Cady-Jo. “I’m hungry. Feed me?”
Ty’s eyes softened, and I felt that happy little burst inside my chest whenever he looked at me like that explode.
“I’ll be fine.” It was a promise I knew I could make. This time, I was the strong one.
Ty looked like he wanted to argue, and Dalton came in. “Let’s get your girl some food, son.”
Ty got up reluctantly. Everyone found reasons to be out of the living room, though I saw Ty didn’t go very far, ensuring he could see me at all times.
Now, Cady-Jo and I were alone. Or as alone as we could be.
“May I?” She was subdued as she came forward.
“Have a seat.” I moved down to make sure there was plenty of room for her, and plenty between us. Just in case.
My mom started fussing at Ty, making sure he got food for himself, too.
I’d been surprised at their relationship when my parents visited me in the hospital.
With my identity making the rounds in the media, I had expected censure, even anger from my parents.
I woke up to very different people. It seems my fiancé—I was curious when he was going to tell me that we were getting married—chewed my parents out.
He made them reevaluate their perspective on my career.
Subsequently, Mom seemed to adore Ty, and Dad wanted to adopt him. The mind boggled sometimes.
“She approves.” Cady-Jo was the first to speak.
I remained silent, not sure what to say.
“So do I,” she added, a look of such pure sincerity I was momentarily taken aback.
“I owe you an apology, Phoebe. I can make excuses, find ‘reasons’ to justify my actions. There are none. I’m not proud of myself.
I became someone I never thought I could.
You were the victim of that. You and Ty.
” Tears welled in her eyes, and she furiously tried to blink them away.
I knew when someone was trying to manipulate me.
This wasn’t that. “I will forever be grateful to you for saving Jesse.”
The police said if I hadn’t moved when I did, Jesse would have been killed. I almost was.
“I would have gone to jail, you know,” she said quietly. “I deserved that. Thanks to you, I got to stay home with my kids, and as a mother—” Her voice broke.
I pressed my lips together. “I didn’t do it just for them.
I did it for you, too.” I needed her to understand why I’d gone or rather had the D.A.
come to me. Cady-Jo had been offered a plea deal for her assault of me and had declined it, willing to plead guilty.
She was facing five years in prison. She didn’t turn the deal down to be a martyr.
I’d watched her court appearance, Abby having snuck in and recorded it.
I’d seen a broken woman standing at the defense table.
I knew what it was to be broken. I’d once said it would have been funny if it wasn’t sad how her life and mine had mirrored each other’s.
The events had changed, but in that moment, she and I shared another commonality.
I’d called the D.A. that day while Ty was picking up Lock from school.
Cady-Jo wasn’t going to be charged with felony assault.
I wanted the charges dropped. They refused, so I did something I’d never thought I would: I threatened them, using my power as a best-selling author and as Edith Devereaux’s adopted great-niece.
We’d settled on a misdemeanor charge with community service, no jail time, and dear Lord, psychological counseling. Mandatory psychological counseling.
Ty tried to hide his relief from me when he’d learned his mother’s sentence.
He’d already made it clear to me I would always come first, even if it meant he never saw his mother again.
Loving someone as deeply as I loved him meant I wanted him whole and happy.
And he loved his mom. Just as he should.
“You still didn’t have to do it.” Cady-Jo regarded me curiously. “I’m not sure if you can ever forgive me. Or even if I deserve forgiveness. I want you to know that I will live with what I did every day.”
“I’ll forgive you.” Not right away, but she knew what I was saying.
“I should have been honest with you when things changed between me and Ty. I’m not used to living in the light, as it were.
None of us are guilt-free in this.” It had taken some time for me to really realize that.
“I don’t know where we go from here, Cady-Jo.
I don’t—I’m in love with Ty, and that’s not going to change or disappear. ”
Her face warmed, and I once again didn’t know what to make of it. I caught Delilah out of the corner of my eye, standing at Rowdy’s side. Ty didn’t look like he was going to kill him. A lifelong prejudice was evolving. I hoped another would, too.
“It won’t be easy, and you and I have a long road ahead of us. But…” I laughed when the story popped into my head. “Once upon a time, there was a woman named Phoebe. She ran away from the darkness of a city to find a beautiful manor in a small town.”
Cady-Jo knew what I was saying. “And a woman came to welcome her with a basket just like her mama taught her to when a new woman came to town.” Cady-Jo reached down, picking up the basket she’d brought. “It was a sign of welcome and given in the hope of friendship.”
Taking the basket, I saw the rest of the story play out in my head.
“When I was a girl and a new woman came to town, Mama would bring her a basket,” Cady-Jo explained. “She said no one ever understood the trials of being a woman more than another woman.”
I looked in the basket. There were creams, bath salts, body scrubs, an eye mask, a bottle of wine, and a book. I raised an eyebrow at her, picking it up.
She ducked her head. “I usually put a P.J. Alexander book in there. Given you’re her…”
“I happen to love Becca Wynn.” I put the book back down, laughing.
Holding out her hand, she sat up straight. “Hi, I’m Cady-Jo. Welcome to Maplehurst.”
Taking her hand, I shook it as firmly as I dared. Stupid injuries. “I’m Phoebe Lebonaire. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Phoebe Lebonaire! The author?” She placed a hand over her heart, eyes wide. “I’m a huge fan!”
I laughed and then sucked in a breath, coughing, which was way worse. Ty strode over, putting a plate full of food on the table. He crouched down, his hand going to my ribs and the other soothing my back the way he knew I needed when this happened.
Once the fit of hell was over, I was wiped out and needed to lie back. Ty handed me my plate of food with an order to eat. The party around us moved on with Cady-Jo sitting on the couch beside us. People mingled, and conversation flowed.
Eating, I did what I always did. I people watched.
As the afternoon turned into the evening, the golden sunlight spilling in from the large bay window, I could see the stories unfolding in my mind.
Not all of them would be easy, not all of them would magically have a happy endings.
Some stories, like mine and Cady-Jo’s, would take a long time and a lot of work to fix.
But I’d learned the stories with easy beginnings often had a disappointing end.
The beginning of my story here wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. And I was glad. It meant when we got to the end, we would never take the love and happiness we found for granted.
At some point, Ty got up, leaving me with his mom, my mom, Helen, Louise, and Abby.
Abby, being the shit disturber she was, had to ask about the next book in my romance series coming out, followed by how Cady-Jo liked knowing her “soon-to-be-daughter-in-law” (she said that in a dramatic whisper ’cause we were all pretending like Ty wasn’t planning on slipping the ring he’d bought me on my finger once everyone left) was one of the hottest romance authors of our time.
Cady-Jo grinned. “I’ve had the next Asher General book pre-ordered for weeks. I can’t wait to read it.” She twisted her mouth. “Er—which reminds me. I was kinda hoping you could make me a promise?” She addressed this to me.
“Oh?”
“I was hoping you’d promise whatever you write wouldn’t have any of what goes on between you and Ty?” She looked at me hopefully. “I need to know what happens with Cole and Carrie”—she named my characters— “without having to burn the book before I read it.”
An image of the day Ty bent me over the dining room table, and we’d “worked” on my scene came to mind.
“Oh, gross!” She gagged. “Please tell me Ryder’s book is okay at least! You can’t do that to me!”
“Ryder’s book is fine.” Mostly. I didn’t think the fantasies I’d had about Ty prior to us getting together counted. Did they? I definitely shouldn’t ask.