Destiny Ever-Changing (17 page)

I lead the reluctant Laura through my yard, hoping and praying that, if I am quiet enough, I won't have to explain to Jacqueline why I am so scantily clothed. And, just as I hoped, the house seems perfectly still and serene; Will and Jacqueline are nowhere to be seen.

I hastily slip into my closet to grab some clothes and make my way back toward the kitchen, and I notice a pastel pink slip of paper that is folded neatly and sitting on the edge of the granite kitchen island. I pause for a moment and pick it up to discover that my name is written across the front in Jacqueline's elaborate scrawl.

Joshua,

I find it very interesting that you haven't been home all afternoon, while Will has been here alone. So if you aren't with him, I wonder who you're spending your day with. Miss Laura Carey, perhaps? Don't worry, Joshua . . .
your secret is safe with me. Just don't get used to having her around. Let's just say that I have a feeling that she'll be having a change of heart.

Jacqueline

"What is she up to?" I mumble to myself as I step toward the back door. Just as I thought that I would get Laura out of here without being seen, I notice that Will is perched on the seat next to her on the deck. As his eyes dart to me, I become suddenly aware that I still haven't put my clothes on, which opens up a world of questioning that I'll have to answer later.

I get Laura out of there as quickly as I can manage after asking Will about Jacqueline's whereabouts, but I'll have to remember to ask him later about what he meant by saying that she's having dinner with a "friend." And I'll definitely want to ask if he knows what Jacqueline is scheming.

Right now, though, I have a more pressing task at hand, but I don't know how to tell Laura that I can't see her anymore. I'm not sure whether I should act like it doesn't bother me at all or if I should be honest and tell her that losing her is ripping me apart on the inside. Either way, dealing with the end result will be the hardest thing I've ever been through.

Once I pull out of the driveway, I keep telling myself that now is the time to tell her, but I'm frozen. I can't seem to form a single coherent thought in my mind that will sum up what I need to say, and all I can muster right now is keeping my eyes on the road and breathing.

From the corner of my eye, I see her shift around to face the window—and away from me. She must hate me right now. Honestly, maybe that is for the best; maybe that will be easier for both of us.

So, that is what I do—I let her hate me. I stay absolutely silent and motionless when I pull into her drive, and without so much as a "goodbye," she slips out of the truck and goes inside the house. For some reason, though, I still can't tear myself away. I simply cannot bring myself to put my truck in reverse, and most of all, I can't let this end.

"Don't do it, Brooks," I utter to myself, willing my hand to reach for the gearshift. Instead, my left hand reaches for the door handle, and the driver's door pops open, allowing a salty breeze to enter. "No. Don't do it."

Just as I begin to close the door, I glance up at the house and see a frail woman at the door, motioning for me to come inside. Immediately grateful for an excuse to see Laura again, I oblige her. Since the night is so quiet, all I can hear as I approach is the gravel crunching under my feet and my heart drumming inside my chest. It's funny that being in Laura's presence has such an effect on my heart rate.

"I knew if I didn't get you out of that truck, you would've never had the courage to do it on your own," the woman whispers with a wink. "Wait here." And she disappears into the house.

I chuckle nervously and turn away, staring up at the stars that are beginning to appear like pinholes of light peeking through the darkness. Her grandmother is quite the sneaky, little matchmaker, but I'm glad she coerced me into getting out. This madness has to end. I would be miserable without Laura, so I'll just have to settle for having her as a friend—as hard as that may seem. That is,
if
she'll ever talk to me again.

Suddenly, a door thudding from behind surprises me, and I spin around, expecting to see the elderly woman. But, instead, Laura is standing on the tiny concrete porch with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looks absolutely livid.

Just when I think all hope is lost, a few minutes later, I find myself sitting on a pale beige sofa in her bedroom and waiting for her to shower. I suppose that I deserve to have to wait on her, and I am fairly certain that she is aware of that.

Looking toward the bathroom door, I watch the steamy fog seep through the crack at the bottom and evaporate into the chilled air of the bedroom. Most men would attempt to visualize what is behind that door, but at this moment, I have a sincere apology to prepare. And after thirty minutes pass, I find myself desperately pleading for her forgiveness and begging her to remain my friend.

All I know is, I'm the luckiest son of a gun on the planet because she finally agrees to continue our friendship. I can't screw it up this time, though . . . we can only be friends. I run down the stairs toward my truck with a smile the size of Texas on my face, and I notice movement at the front of the house.

"See, now, don't you feel better?" Laura's grandmother laughs as she rises from her seat on a small iron bench.

"Yes, ma'am. Much better." I jump in my truck and give her a thankful nod, and then I carefully maneuver my way out of the drive to head back home, suddenly realizing that the excitement isn't over yet. I still have a few more fires to put out.

"Brooksey, you got some 'splainin' to do," Will says with his best Cuban accent as I get out of my truck, thinking that he's particularly clever.

"Uh huh," I nod. "I figured that."

"So, uh, has it become socially acceptable to run around in boxers now? If that's the case, I've been waiting for this clothing fad for an awful long time."

"Yep, that's right," I fire back as I walk around the house and peer into a window. "Jacqueline back yet?"

"Nope, not yet, so you're all clear to tell me everything. First, tell me how it takes a person over an hour to drop someone off at a house a mile away. What have you been up to, Brooksey?" Will's eyebrows raise up and down quickly as a wily grin spreads across his face.

I shake my head. "Not what
you
think, for sure."

"Well, set me straight, then."

"Fine, here's my day in a nut shell: First, I went to the cave to think and literally ran into Laura there. We talked for a while, and then I took her to jump off the cliff in the cove. You remember that place, right? Anyway, when we jumped, I lost
all
of my clothes—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he interrupts, barely able to control his laughter. "You gonna tell me that next you tripped and fell right into—"

"No! Nothing like that happened. Just let me finish. Laura found my boxers, and then we walked back. Since it was getting so dark, I thought it would be the courteous thing to do to take her home, and we just talked for a while when we got there. End of story . . . no juicy details to share with you."

"Somehow, I sense that a vital part of your story is missing. I saw the look on Laura's face when you guys got back, and you didn't look too pleased either. What are you not telling me?"

"Well, I kind of screwed up, but we're good now," I say as I frantically attempt to change the subject. "I have to call Ashton first thing in the morning to find out when she's coming, so we can plan the cookout. I told Laura I would stop by tomorrow to give her the details."

"So, Laura's still coming, eh?" Will eagerly inquires.

I nod. "I think so. Why? You don't want her to?"

"
I
do, but are you sure you still want to do this? Set her up with me, I mean."

I nod again, perhaps overdoing it a bit. "Why not? She's single. You're single. She has a sweet personality, and I know you'll treat her with the respect she deserves. And I know that you deserve someone like her, too. I want to be able to see my friends happy, even if I can't be."

"As long as you're sure, I'm game."

I turn my back to him as I begin to walk back in the house, trying to hide the uncertainty that I'm positive is written across my face. "I'm sure."

After grilling some chicken and throwing together a simple salad, Will and I sit down on the deck to eat. Will keeps looking at me like he's expecting me to burst into flames or as if I'm growing a third arm out of my forehead.

"You have something on your mind?" I finally ask as I reach for my glass of ice water.

"Well . . . did you get the note that was on the counter?"

"Yeah, I did. I was going to ask you about that. Did you read it?"

"Would you pummel me if I told you that I did?"

I push my plate away, not caring that it is still nearly as full as when I started. "No, she probably meant for you to read it, knowing how she operates. Do you have any idea what she's up to?"

"I'm not sure, but I know
something
is up," Will explains as he treats his plate in the same manner. "All I really know is that some guy showed up here this afternoon. Jacqueline took him into the den, and they talked for a long time. After they talked, she seemed overly excited about something. That's when she wrote that note and told me that she and her friend were going to dinner."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Did you catch his name?"

"No, she didn't introduce us. Sharp looking guy, though." Will swirls his ice around in his glass. "Does that really not bother you? I mean, I know you're being forced into this and all, but she is going to be your wife. She isn't even trying to hide her infidelity; imagine what people will think."

I shrug. "I honestly don't care. The more she's with someone else, the less she's with me. And, as far as what other people think, she'll have the bad reputation, not me. As soon as I can get myself out of this, I will, and it doesn't matter to me what happens to my dad's company. He opened Pandora's box, so he can deal with the consequences."

"So, why go through with it, if you don't care what happens with the company? It wouldn't be that hard to start over. Heck, you could stay with me."

"It's tempting . . . it really is," I say as I put my face in my hands. "But if my dad is desperate enough to sacrifice his own child, I would rather it be me than my brother or sister."

"I didn't think of it that way, but as greedy as your dad is, it could still happen, you know."

"Yeah, but not as likely. He'll have his hands full for a while after the wedding." I step into the garage and bring back two beers. "I'm hoping, by that point, Ashton and Stephen will be out of college and on their own. Neither one of them like working for Dad."

Will begins clearing the dishes to take inside the house. "Ashton does complain a lot about work. I'm glad she only has one more semester until she graduates from grad school."

"Kind of sounds like you two talk quite a bit," I smile and open the back door for him. "Is there something going on there that I should know about?"

He shakes his head frantically and looks down—a telltale sign that he's lying to me. He hasn't ever been a good liar. "Uh, no. We have just been talking some . . . about you. That's your sister, man!"

"Hmmm, well, she's too good for you anyway." I wink and open up both beers as we sit on the deck stairs." Will only huffs in return.

Just as I begin to tease him more, my cell phone vibrates on the glass patio table, sounding like an infuriated bumblebee.

"Hey, Ash!" I answer and put her on speakerphone. My greeting causes Will to suddenly perk up and glare at me intently.

"How's my favorite big brother holding up?" she jokes. Just hearing her voice relaxes me; we've always been close. My youngest sibling, Stephen, and I are eight years apart, so our age difference has caused quite a chasm between us; although, we do get along fine. Ashton, on the other hand, is only four years younger, and she is the female clone of me. People are always accusing us of being twins.

"Not bad, but I've been better, I suppose." I say as my lips spread into an evil smile and turn to look at Will. "Will says you guys have been in contact quite a bit lately."

"Uh . . . umm . . . yeah," she stutters, "we've both been worried about you. Did he tell you that I'm coming to visit?"

"He mentioned that. I've been meaning to call and ask when you are coming."

She hesitates. "Is tonight too soon? I'm at the airport now, so I'll be there in a little over three hours. Surprise!"

"Tonight's fine! What time does your flight land?"

"One a.m.," she says. "I know that's late, but it was the only nonstop flight I could find. Can you pick me up then?"

I look over at Will, who is staring into space with a half grin. "Will and I will be there. Have a safe flight. Love you, sis."

I hang up the phone, and before I could say anything to him, Will bounds into the house, mumbling something about taking a shower. I finish off my beer and take the empty bottles to the trash, and I grab some clean sheets from the linen closet and carry them to one of the unused guest rooms to make the bed for Ashton.

Once Will finishes his shower, I follow his lead since I am still in the sand-filled boxers that I was wearing earlier. Just as I step under the spray of scalding water, I hear the familiar sound of high-heeled shoes on the wood floor. Jacqueline is home.

"Joshua?" she says, laying on the artificial sweetness a little too much as she comes inside the bathroom with me and stands at the shower door. "Honey, where have you been?"

The shower is actually a small tile room with four different showerheads lining either side of the wall, and it doesn't have a curtain or door, just a short ledge to step over. Therefore, Jacqueline has a full head-to-toe view of me once she rounds the corner, and she leans against the doorway to enjoy the scene.

"Jacqueline, what do you want?" I snap as I turn away. "Can I not take a shower in peace?"

Expecting a snide response, I glance back over my shoulder when she doesn't say anything, and she has disappeared. Or so I thought.