A Lush Reunion Read online

  The next thing I know, he’s at my shoulder, leaning his hip against the porch railing. “You’re going to have to let it out eventually,” he tells me in a quiet voice. “I know it’s hard as hell, man. I went more than a decade without admitting what happened with my mom. I didn’t think I ever would, but once I was forced into it, the words just fell out. It sucks living with that chunk of bad inside you, and even though doing it hurts, it feels so good once you let it loose. It’s life altering. I mean that.”

  I slowly shake my head from side to side. “It’s not only me,” I tell him, my voice scratchy. “It’s stuff about her—about choices she made—and in spite of what happened, I can’t give up her confidence like that. I can’t.”

  He nods. “I understand. You’re a good guy, man. A friend, a brother, a decent human. But I’m afraid, if you keep this up, it’s going to eat you alive. Think about it. Think about talking to me. I swear to you it stays right here.” He taps his skull. “I will never betray your trust or Marsha’s.”

  Considering what Mike did with the information that our lead singer, Joss, had slept with Tammy, the drummer’s fiancée, some people would say I’d be dumb to trust Mike. But I know that was the exception, not the rule. He’s trustworthy. I simply can’t force the right words out of my mouth.

  “Maybe,” I mutter.

  This garners another big sigh from my shadow. “I’m going to start working on Mrs. S.’s chandelier this morning,” he tells me. “Take the whole thing apart, clean it, then replace the bulbs. Half of them are burnt out, and she’ll never be able to balance on a ladder to change them.”

  “Cool,” I answer. “I have to go out to the ranch. Ronny’s got some work for me.”

  “Okay. Meet for dinner?” he asks.

  “Sure. See you at the Bronco?”

  “Sounds good,” he answers.

  THE DRIVE to the ranch is usually relaxing, but not this morning. Mike’s words of warning have unsettled me. The difference in him since he let go of the secret about his mother has been noticeable, and I have no doubt he’s going to get Jenny back in the end. I flirt with the idea that I could have a similar kind of turnaround if I revealed my past with Marsha, but then I realize that would never be possible. By unburdening myself I’d only hurt her. As angry as I am, I’d still never intentionally do anything to hurt her. Whatever relief I’d get from telling our secrets would be overwhelmed by the damage I’d do to the woman I once loved more than my own life.

  When I pull up to the ranch, I see several unfamiliar cars in the large parking area adjacent to the house. There are always things going on here though, so I don’t think much of it. I hop out of the little pickup truck Walsh gave me to drive when he left town, then I amble into the house through the kitchen. Leanne, Ronny’s wife, almost always has some leftover food sitting around. Mrs. S. fed me this morning, but honestly, I can always eat more, so any extra food is appreciated.

  As I step into the big, homey kitchen, it’s not Leanne I see standing at the stove, however, but a very familiar redhead. I stop, not sure if I should go back out or say something. But before I can decide, she’s turned, looking at me over her shoulder. I have a flash of her in that same position—her beautiful eyes gazing at me, her skin bare, and her breath coming in pants as I move inside her from behind. The memory is so vivid that it stops me cold.

  “Hi,” she says, her voice rough before she clears her throat. “Are you looking for Leanne?”

  I shake myself out of the flashback that’s almost enough to get me hard right here in Ronny and Leanne’s kitchen. “Uh…” I look around for some sort of inspiration. Why am I here? I shut the door behind me to buy some time before I finally manage to choke out, “Just food. I was sort of hoping she had some leftovers from breakfast. I’m doing work for Ronny today.” I gesture outside the kitchen window that faces the barn.

  “There are some griddle cakes and a little sausage. I was about to put them away, but you’ll save me the trouble if you’ll eat them.”

  I swallow, still standing awkwardly by the back door. “Um, sure. If it’s okay with Leanne.”

  She gives a short laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d be good with that.” She pulls a plate down from the cabinet and loads it with food from the stovetop. “Here you go.” She sets it on the table along with a bottle of maple syrup before gingerly pulling a chair out. “I’ll just…” She points to the door leading to the rest of the house, indicating she’ll leave while I eat.

  “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, making my way to the kitchen table.

  “We have a Women’s Auxiliary Club meeting. Leanne’s hosting.” She swallows, her hands twisting together nervously.

  I kind of hate that I make her so nervous. My presence used to be a comfort to her.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you,” I say as I sit at the table and prepare to dig in. I sound like an asshole even though I don’t really mean to.

  She sighs before her voice breaks through the small clacking noises of my knife and fork tapping the plate as I cut my food. “Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks.

  I stop, fork midway to my mouth. I’ve been in Texas off and on for months. Neither one of us has ever brought it up. But this is the first time we’ve ever been alone, rather than surrounded by her customers and my bandmates at the Bronco.

  “What’s the point?” I ask, taking the bite and chewing consciously.

  Before I know what’s happened, she’s sitting in one of the other chairs at the table. I stare at my plate, chewing and chewing the bite of pancake that’s become ash in my mouth.

  “I don’t know, but you’ve been here for months, and you’ve barely spoken five words to me in all that time. You won’t look at me, won’t speak to me, and I know you won’t speak about me, either. Walsh, Joss, and Mike have all asked me how we know each other. It’s pretty obvious you’ve refused to tell them anything.”

  I drop my fork on the plate. It makes a loud clattering sound, and my ears cringe at the volume.

  “You really want me to tell them all about us?” I ask. “The whole story?”

  She looks hurt for brief moment, then the redhead that’s always ruled her comes out, and she morphs into the fire-breathing dragon of a woman I fell for all those years ago. “I don’t really care what you tell them,” she hisses. “I have nothing to be ashamed of, and while I know it hurt you, it was my decision to make and I did what I thought was right for all of us at the time.”

  I snort. “See? That right there. That’s why I don’t want to get into this. It’s been ten damn years and you still refuse to admit that maybe I should have had something to say about it too. You’re never going to make an effort to understand my side of things, so why bother getting into it?”

  She blinks rapidly, and there’s a thickness in her voice as she speaks. “It’s worth discussing because you were the love of my life, Colin—”

  “Yeah? Well, that’s interesting, because you were the love of mine too, but I would never have done that to you, Marsha. Never.”

  “Colin—”

  “Mom?”

  We both startle at the interruption. I turn to the kitchen door and find myself face-to-face with big, blue eyes, curly, auburn hair and a suspicious expression. It’s so obvious whose son he is that my heart seizes, filling my chest with a dull pain.

  Marsha immediately schools her expression as she stands from the table and moves toward the door. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says. “Did you get bored in there?” She bends over to place a kiss on his forehead.

  Something inside of me rips in two, and I’m not sure it can ever be repaired.

  “Who’s he?” the kid asks.

  She looks at me, seeming to decide how she’s going to play this one. “This is Colin,” she answers. “He’s an old friend of mine. We went to high school together in Oklahoma. Remember I told you I used to live there?”

  The kid steps around Marsha and approaches me, his little chin lifted
and his eyes full of spark. “I’m Sean,” he says confidently. “I’m six, and she’s my mom.” He gestures behind him to Marsha, who’s looking at me with so much worry in her face that it makes me queasy.

  I can’t help but be sidetracked by his name. “Sean?” I ask. I dart a look at Marsha. “Is that your dad’s name too?”

  “No,” he says. “It’s my name. My dad, he’s in prison now because he made a big mistake, but he always said he didn’t like that name. Me and Mom do though. Do you?”

  I glance at Marsha again, and I can see the pain in her eyes. I knew that her ex was in prison, but damn it smarts to hear her innocent kid talk about it. I decide to do whatever I can to smooth this over. Why she gave him that name, I might never know, but she doesn’t need to be embarrassed because of it now.

  “Not only do I like that name, little dude, it’s my name too.”

  His eyes grow big. “But she said your name was Colin…”

  “Yep. Colin Sean Douglas. What do you think of that? Sean is my middle name, from my granddad, so you and I can share it.”

  Sean looks to his mom for some sort of approbation. She gives him a weak smile, and he breaks out in a huge grin.

  “I knew another Sean at daycare when I was a baby, but I didn’t want to share my name with him. He always had snot on his face, and someone said he gave Hillary lice.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. The way this kid’s mind works is nothing short of pure genius.

  “Definitely don’t want to name share with the dude who also shares his creepy crawlies,” I tell him with feigned seriousness.

  “But you’re cool,” he says. “You look kind of like Walsh. He used to live here, and he was a rock star.”

  I look at his eager little face, all freckles and missing teeth. He makes my heart ache with a longing that I’ve tried to ignore for so damn long.

  “As a matter of fact, Walsh and I were in the same band.”

  “Really?!” He starts to squirm, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “You were in Lush? My mom listens to them all the time. They’re our favorite band ever.” His voice is breathless he’s so excited.

  Holy crap. Marsha listens to me play. Did she start listening after I showed up here or has she always been a fan? Did she know I was in Lush before I came to Texas? Has she thought about me all these years the way I’ve thought about her?

  “Well, I’m the bass guitarist for Lush—or I was. We haven’t played together in a long time,” I tell him, trying not to sound too torn up over it even though I am.

  “Sean. I think it’s time we let Colin finish his breakfast,” Marsha breaks in.

  “Awww.” He scuffs at the kitchen floor to emphasize his discontent with his mom’s decree.

  “Come on,” she says, guiding him toward the door. “Let’s get back to the meeting.”

  “Will I get to see Colin again?” Sean asks, hope shining from his small face.

  “I don’t really think—” Marsha begins.

  “Sure you will, buddy,” I interject. “In fact, maybe one of these days when you don’t have school, your mom would let you come work here at the ranch with me. We could tell the cows what to do, chase a few chickens. It’d be fun.” I look at Marsha, hoping she doesn’t gun me down. I can’t explain it, but I really want to spend some time with the kid who appears to have been named for me.

  “Pleeease, Mom? Pleeeease?” Sean begs in that way only six-year-olds can.

  Marsha shoots me a look, and I’m not sure if it’s angry or confused.

  “We’ll see, okay? Now, back to the meeting we go.” She shoos him out the door before looking to me briefly. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I know, but I really like kids.” I sound bitter, and I’m not sure if I really am or if it’s become habit when I’m talking to Marsha.

  She sighs and nods her head. “Okay. See you around, I guess.” The slump of her shoulders communicates defeat, and in a way, I’m ashamed that all my vitriol has broken her inimitable spirit.

  She walks out the door without another word, and I’m left wondering what the hell she’s been thinking all these years and why in the world she named her child after me, the guy she thought wasn’t good enough to be a father.

  Chapter Two

  Marsha

  I’M SITTING in a room full of women who are control freaks. Leanne asked me to be on this committee because, in her words, “someone has to balance out the alpha in that group.” And I can appreciate that. I’m not laid-back, but I don’t care about whatever philanthropic project the Women’s Auxiliary wants to do. I’m not a joiner or an organizer. Tell me where to show up and what to do and I’m good with that.

  So here I am now, supposedly listening to the bunch of them bicker over whether they should have a silent auction or a town carnival for this year’s fundraiser. But all I can think about is the look on Colin’s face when Sean told him his name.

  Jeff, my ex, had heard a little about Colin before we got married. The usual “how many boyfriends did you have before me?” conversation. By the time I found out I was pregnant, I knew that Jeff was absolutely the wrong guy for me. It drove me further into my fantasies about what Colin and I could have had if we’d stayed together. I was miserable, and fantasizing about Colin was the one bright thing in my life at that point.

  But since Jeff knew the name Colin, I couldn’t suggest it. That probably would have earned me a shouting match and a husband who was drunk for a few days. That’s how Jeff always lost his jobs—benders that went on for days. I literally couldn’t afford to piss him off. My wages as a waitress were barely enough to pay the rent on our trailer and get us some groceries. With a baby on the way, I was going to have to pay for childcare too. So I was careful to make sure I didn’t give Jeff any reason to drink himself out of a job.

  Colin had other names though, and I was determined to use one of them for my son. Give him the name of someone who would have been the kind of father he deserved. Give him a name I associated with all the good things a man can be. So I named him Sean, even though Jeff said only “Irish homos” were named that. That only made me more determined.

  At the time, it seemed like a really safe way to feel closer to Colin. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing. But I took comfort from knowing he was out there somewhere and that I’d given my son a small part of him. Then, one day, the radio played a song I liked and my world came crashing down around my head.

  Even though I live in Texas, I’ve never been a country music fan. Maybe for no other reason than Jeff loved it. Either way, I listen to the rock stations out of Dallas, and I was driving along in the car one day when Sean was three or four and a new song came on the radio. It was called “Your Air,” and I fell in love with it. Later that week, when I was killing time, I got on iTunes to look it up. Imagine my shock when I saw the photo of the band and there stood Colin, the only guy I’d ever loved.

  From that moment on, having named Sean after Colin took on a whole different significance. There was no reason Colin would ever find out where I was, who my kid was, or that he had the same name, but for some reason, knowing where Colin was—in a manner of speaking—made me feel exposed. Like “if I can see you then you can see me.” I spent the better part of six months in a panic expecting Colin Douglas to come walking in my front door, accusing me of stalking him through my radio and stealing his name for my kid.

  But then Jeff got charged with armed robbery at the construction company he was working for and my thoughts became consumed with how to support my son and unload the convicted felon I’d ended up married to. And I’d just managed to land on my feet, getting a place to live I could afford on my own, a court order for child support once Jeff was released from prison, and a happier life alone with my son when Walsh Clark showed up at the Bronco and blew everything to hell.

  “Marsha?” Leanne says, and I realize she’s been asking me something.

  “I’m sorry. What was that?” My cheeks heat as all of
the Women’s Auxiliary members look at me critically.

  “I wondered what you thought of the idea to do the silent auction at a town fair. Kill two birds with one stone?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” I say with fake enthusiasm. “The more paths to the money the better.” I smile brightly, and everyone seems satisfied with that response, nodding in agreement.

  “So, you think the Bronco would be willing to let us use the back room for the auction?”

  Oh. Now, I see why they wanted me involved.

  “I’ll ask Jimmy. But I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” I plaster that smile on my face again as Sean stops his coloring and looks up at me from the floor. He can tell I’m faking it, but hopefully he won’t say anything right now. I grit my teeth, praying for his silence.

  He seems to consider it—consider me—and then shrugs and goes back to the drawing. Crisis averted.

  The conversation continues and I’m free to go back to obsessing over Colin. The look on his face when Sean told him his name. Like he might get sick right there in Leanne’s newly cleaned kitchen. What the hell was I thinking naming my kid after my ex-boyfriend? I shake my head, praying I don’t have to see him on my way out of the house. There’s humiliation, and then there’s this.

  The meeting finally ends, and I make myself busy helping pick up everyone’s coffee cups and cake dishes while Leanne shows her guests out. Sean is pretty involved with his new coloring book, so I don’t have to do more with him than answer a couple of questions. Thank goodness, because I don’t think my mind is functioning at full speed yet.

  “I can clean all of that up,” Leanne says as she comes back in the room. “Something’s obviously bothering you. What is it?”

  Leanne knows that Colin and I knew each other in high school, and given the way we dance around one another whenever we meet up, everyone in town’s figured out that we used to date. But I’ve never told anyone more than that. Never admitted to my friends and neighbors how involved Colin and I truly were. Partly because I’m worried about what they’ll say—and while I don’t give a damn what they think about my choices, I do care that they don’t blackball us for Sean’s sake—and partly because it’s painful to talk about. Really, it’s no one’s business but mine and Colin’s, and he’d probably say that I made sure it wasn’t his business, either.