Relentless Rhythm (Tempest #4) (6 page)

A pause. “Running? Are you wearing cut off sweats?”

I snorted. “No. Just track pants. It’s too cold for shorts.”

“Oh, too bad. I liked the other visual. I’m gonna stick with it.”

“Alright.” I grinned, something I found myself doing a lot around her. It was the reason, even though she kept trying to burrow further in, that I didn’t push her away like my gut told me to do. I never let chicks too close. They were way too perceptive at close range, something I didn’t need or want.

“Anyway, I just called to give you an update on April like I promised.”

My overworked muscles went super tense. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. Well, at least I think so.” A sigh. “Oh, hell, I don’t know.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.” It was difficult, but I mostly managed to keep the impatience from my tone.

“Well she seemed better last night than this morning when I talked to her to tell you the truth. Her voice is so hoarse this morning that I could barely understand her. I told her she needed to go to the clinic, but she won’t. I’m worried that dick might’ve done some kind of permanent damage to her vocal cords.”

“That asshole had his hands wrapped around her neck so hard her eyes were bugging out,” I growled. “I imagine her throat would be pretty raw today.”

“Ok. Yeah. That’s what I thought, too, only sometimes…well…Nevermind.”

What the hell?
Before I had a chance to press her, she went on, “You coming to the Mine tonight? Ebb Tide’s playing. I’m singing.”

“No, Bluebelle. I can’t. I’m sorry.” I could, but I wasn’t going to. I needed to try to put a little distance between me and those two, the bartender in particular. After all, who the hell had appointed me as her protector? She had her own life. Mine sure as hell didn’t need any more complications.

Toughen up
, I told myself, my aching muscles screaming in protest as I made my way up the sidewalk to my childhood home. I didn’t have time to lie around and recuperate. Today was Saturday, the day that I always gave my mom a break, helping out with George and my half-brothers.

I’d gotten stiff on the long bus ride out to Coquitlam. Usually the time flew by as I watched and listened to the other passengers, but the usual things weren’t bumping me out of my depressing thoughts. I’d been like this all week, since the assault at the club and what had followed later that night at home.

Mel was beyond frustrated with me. She wanted me to talk, and I wouldn’t comply. It’d gotten so bad that I’d begun avoiding her which was really pretty damn counterproductive since I needed my lifeline now more than ever. But I just couldn’t afford the kind of intimate friendship that we both desired. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us.

I needed to put my own shit aside before I got inside the house. My mom would ask too many questions I couldn’t answer. Things were hard enough for her these days. She didn’t need to shoulder any more burdens.

I lifted a hand to my neck checking to make sure the scarf was still in place covering the bruises that were only just beginning to fade. Suddenly, the front door burst open. John and Michael my seven and five year old exuberant half-brothers barreled down the wooden ramp at top speed and launched themselves at me. I rocked back on my heels. John squeezed my waist like he hadn’t seen me in years and Michael wrapped his still chubby little arms around my leg, his ever present plush Paddington Bear sandwiched between us.

“Do you have a new chapter for us?” Michael asked peering expectantly up at me.

“Of course I do.” I leaned down and planted a kiss on his freckled cheek. His face turned completely scarlet. I lifted Michael and gave him a big one, too before he could squirm away.

My mom, who looked enough like me that we could be sisters with the same long brown hair and green and brown flecked eyes, appeared in the doorway behind us looking flustered. “Boys.” She smoothed her wool skirt. She never went out without looking one hundred percent put together. Totally different from me and my opposites must attract urban chic look. “Get back in this house,” she scolded them. “You’re still in your pajamas. You’d think for once they’d wait to maul you until
after
you get inside?” she said apologetically.

I laughed. “It’s ok, Mom.” We studied each other for a moment. “You look tired,” we both said in unison.

“Good thing coffee’s brewing.” Mom reached out and squeezed my arm sympathetically. “Did you work late last night?”

I nodded. I didn’t mention that the shift had felt much longer than usual.

Dizzy had returned after a week long absence along with the rest of the Tempest crew minus Justin. I hadn’t seen the rhythm man since he’d rescued me and things were definitely kind of weird. He sat in his usual spot, picked up a girl, and disappeared into the back the way he always did. But he shunned me completely. He got his drinks from the bar upstairs, even though it was way out of the way to do so.

He and Mel seemed solid though. She had taken up with his group the way she left off, and they’d resumed their easy chemistry, laughing and dancing together. I was happy for my friend. I had put aside most of my doubts about Dizzy, but I just couldn’t understand why he seemed to be purposefully avoiding me.

His attitude toward me had changed, and it perplexed me. I was the friendly put together bartender. The one everybody felt at ease with. It was my persona, and the Mine was the place where I felt like I could be my true self, the person I was before James. The person I might’ve remained if things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong.

Had Dizzy seen through my disguise? Had he put it all together and figured out what an imposter I really was?

I shifted Michael on my hip to cover up my sigh. He was getting big. I wouldn’t be able to hold him like this much longer. That thought made me even more melancholy. I tightened my arms around him as if that would somehow keep him young forever.

My mom was watching me closely. “You really don’t look well. I only have two errands that I absolutely have to get done today. My haircut can wait till next week. I…”

“No, Mom,” I stated firmly, setting Michael down on the kitchen counter and opening the cookie jar, handing him one before setting him back on the floor. I ruffled his sandy brown hair. “I’m fine. We talked about this before. You need to get out of the house at least once a week and have some time for yourself.” She took pride in caring for my stepfather herself and refused to put him in the long term care facility even though James had offered to pay the bill. “I love spending time with George and the boys. It’s a win-win for everybody. So, go.” I shooed her toward the garage door while pasting on an encouraging smile. “Is he still asleep?”

She nodded, sadness surfacing in her eyes, deepening the fine lines around them. She’d aged so much since his accident. “He had a hard night,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I pulled her into my arms, resting my cheek against hers. She hugged me back, clinging to me for a moment before releasing me. “Isn’t there anything they can do?” I asked softly.

“You know there’s not.” Her eyes turned shiny. She sniffed before continuing. “It’s never going to get any better. What it is now is what it’s always going to be. But I just can’t stop hoping…” She trailed off unable to complete the thought. The wish we all had. She managed a watery smile before turning away. She lifted her purse off the bar stool and scooped her keys off the counter.

The helplessness and despair she’d shouldered since George, the second love of her life after my father, had fallen off the ladder and injured his brain, was mostly hidden behind her everyday mask. But the smiles we all got from her nowadays never quite reached her eyes. She used to be the more carefree one, the one who taught me to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. She’d always been my biggest cheerleader, too, even when I fell in love and got married right out of high school. But that had all changed. Everything had changed for all of us last year. Now we were both just treading water trying to keep our heads above the surface and not to drown in our sorrow.

“April,” she called, her hand on the open door to the garage.

“Yeah, Mom?”

She stared at me a beat, her expression inscrutable. “Everything ok with you, Sweetie?”

I froze, hoping my own mask was as firmly in place as hers. “Sure.” I swallowed, the lie burning my throat and tasting bitter on my tongue. “Why do you ask?”

“I just want to be sure James knows how much I appreciate him paying the mortgage since George’s accident. And with the medical bills, too. I know it must put a terrible financial burden on both of you. And I haven’t seen you two together in quite a while.” A frown formed between her delicate brows. “Not since…”

“We want to help, Mom,” I rushed in with words desperate to block out the subject she’d begun to invoke. “We can do it. We want to help. We’re family. Family’s not a burden. James is just busy with work. Being co-owner’s a lot more involved than just being a GM.” The bitterness turned to dry ashes in my mouth. I couldn’t go there. Not yet, not on top of everything else. Some other time. Some indefinite time in the future. When I was feeling stronger. When things finally settled down for her.

“Alright.” I could tell she wasn’t completely convinced by my explanation. Avoidance and stoic endurance were the coping mechanisms we both employed after life’s cruel turns had brought each of us to our knees.

“Go on.” I tilted my head toward the door. “You should get going. I’ll see to George. And I’ve got a new story to tell everyone.”

After she closed the door, I scooped Michael up into my arms again and buzzed his chocolate stained cheek, breathing in his cookie smell. “C’mon little Jobber. Come help me with your dad. The sooner we get him fed breakfast, the sooner I can start my tale.”

“Will there be pirates in this one?” Michael asked, his eyes bright and his cherub face alight.

“Absopositivealutely,” I confirmed.

“And sword fighting?” John beside me, we moved to the back of the house, entering the master bedroom now filled wall to wall with hospital equipment.

“Of course. It’d be a pretty boring otherwise, wouldn’t it?” The fantasy I was weaving had a beautiful but tragic heroine who could only dream of escaping her unhappy circumstances. That is, until she is magically transported into an alternative reality filled with monsters, miracles, and magic. And even a few mortals. I had recently added a reluctant but exceedingly brave chocolate haired, pierced browed hero who could fly and his quirky but completely loveable blue haired sidekick.

George was sitting up in the recliner when we entered. He smiled as if he knew me. I hoped he had pleasant memories, even if it was only in some deep unreachable place.

“Good morning,” I said overenthusiastically to cover up the pain. It didn’t get any easier seeing him this way. The wise, strong, steady man I had relied on during my turbulent teens was gone. Snatched away by the fickle hand of fate at a time when I had needed him the most. He was the only father I had ever known. Though my mom told me stories about my biological dad, he’d died when I was too young to remember him. I’d become a bartender because he had been one and I’d wanted to be just like him.

I leaned over and kissed George’s bristly cheek. The scent of Dial soap filled my lungs. He still smelled the same, but everything else about him was different. He was like a little child now. His hands fluttered on my back, but he didn’t hug me. Tears burned the back of my eyes. I willed them away and straightened. “What would you like for breakfast today?” He didn’t answer. He never did. So I answered for him. “Oatmeal it is.”

I felt a warm presence settle near my side. Michael took my hand and squeezed his small fingers around mine. He blinked at me with solemn blue eyes that were way too somber for his age but reminded me so much of his father. “I’ll help you,” he said.