The Vincent Boys Collection Read online

  I didn’t follow her. She was Ethan’s date; the only one he got with her. Because he was my friend and I really needed a little distance from Lana after the conversation we’d had by the car, I was going to spend the rest of the night talking to Leann and enjoying the music.

  Leann studied me as I made my way over to stand beside her. Before she could open her mouth and ask twenty questions that were none of her business, I informed her: “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  She closed her mouth and gave me a dirty look before focusing her attention on whatever Ethan was saying to Lana. I didn’t allow myself even a glance over at them.

  “I hope she kicks you to the curb. I have no idea what has gotten into you, Sawyer, but I gotta say, I don’t like you very much right now. The good guy is completely gone.”

  Dammit, why did I care? Leann wasn’t my girlfriend’s best friend any longer.

  “I made a mistake, okay. I’m allowed to screw up. You all accuse me of putting Ash on a pedestal. Well, maybe y’all have me on one too. Back off.”

  I was already beating myself up enough about how I’d hurt Lana. I didn’t need Leann in my ear making it worse. Especially when the need to turn around and make sure Ethan’s lips were nowhere near Lana’s face was becoming harder to control. I needed to let them have this one date. Then I was going to make sure everyone knew Lana was mine this summer. I was going to make sure she never cried again on my account.

  “I know you’re human, Sawyer. I just didn’t know you were a thoughtless ass. That’s all I’m referring to,” Leann said before shifting her attention back to the stage.

  Little Big Town’s newest hit, “Pontoon,” started playing and Ashton squealed behind me. “AH! I love this song! Put me on your shoulders so I can see better.”

  I wasn’t about to turn around and see Beau put Ashton on his shoulders the way I’d done at the last concert I’d taken her to. If it wasn’t for all the memories it would be easier to wash Ash from my thoughts. But forgetting was so damn hard.

  Chapter 11

  LANA

  Music played somewhere in the distance as I spun in circles searching for it. Just before I twirled off a huge cliff and plunged to my death, my eyes snapped open. I stared at the ceiling. The music was much louder now. Colbie Caillat was letting me know I had a phone call. Groaning, I reached for my phone on the pillow beside me. I’d gone to sleep hoping to get a text from Sawyer, but one never came.

  Why was my mother calling at seven-thirty in the morning?

  “Mom?”

  “Hey, honey, I’m sorry to wake you, but I wanted to call you before your stupid father did. You need to hear this from me and not him. He has absolutely not one drop of compassion for others. He just goes around hurting people and doing whatever his sorry ass wants to do. Selfish man. He hasn’t called you, has he? Because if he has already called, I’m going to jump on a plane and fly to New York City and kick his—”

  “Mom, could you tell me what’s going on please?” I’d pulled myself up to a sitting position while my mother had rambled on about my father. That was her favorite pastime: coming up with names for my dad.

  “Sorry. I got carried away.” She sighed into the phone. “Your dad is getting married, Lana, to that new whore of his.”

  I was prepared for this, maybe not so soon, but I knew he had moved away to be near some woman he’d met on a business trip. I was hoping to visit him one week this summer if he found time in his schedule. It sounded pathetic that I was hoping he could pencil in time for me, but he was my dad. Up until last year, he’d lived in my house. I’d hated him at first, but eventually I’d wanted a relationship with him again.

  “Okay . . . ,” I began, trying carefully to filter my words while talking to my mother. She went crazy if I ever defended him. I didn’t like her reminding me that he’d left me, too, whenever I tried to take up for him. Because she was right: He had left me, too, but he loved me. I knew he did. He’d told me the day he signed the divorce papers that he’d stayed with her until I had grown up. He had been planning to leave her the moment I went off to college, but things had happened and he’d had to leave a little earlier. He’d said that none of it was because of me. He loved me and was proud of me. I needed to believe that. I held on to that at night when I lay in bed and heard my mother crying and screaming as she threw things across her bedroom.

  “We knew he was serious when he moved out there to be with her. When is he planning on getting married?”

  “I most certainly did not expect your forty-seven-year-old father to marry his twenty-three-year-old slut! What will people think? He’s ruining our reputation. People in this town will find out and they will talk. You won’t be able to walk around town without people whispering behind your back. This is going to ruin us, Lana. Just ruin us!”

  Twenty-three? I cringed. What was my dad doing engaged to a girl only five years older than I was? That was just . . . gross. My mother continued to rant and call my dad names as I sat there staring at the wall in front of me. The message “Home Is Where the Heart Is” was stenciled on a framed painting hanging on the pale blue wall, mocking me. Home? What is home now? My mother’s house where there was never any peace? My dad’s apartment in Manhattan? It was about five hundred square feet, and he was going to move in with his college-age wife. Tears stung my eyes as the smell of coffee wafted down the hall to my room. I could hear my aunt and uncle chatting happily in the kitchen, and I could smell bacon frying on the stove. This was a home, one like I’d never really known.

  “Did you hear me, Lana?”

  Shaking myself out of the pity party I was having, I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Mom, what was that?”

  “He wants to fly you to New York City to be in the wedding. Can you believe that? My baby in New York. I told him no way. You wouldn’t want to be in his ridiculous wedding. But he insisted that he’d talk to you first. Be ready for that call today. The little floozy wants you to be the maid of honor. You haven’t even met her.”

  “Okay, Mom. Thank you for letting me know. I need to go. I’ll call you later. Ashton is waiting on me to go for a morning run.” Mom bought my lie, and I fell back against the pillow as I ended the call.

  Could this get any more screwed up? The house phone rang, and I heard my aunt answer it. I didn’t have to pick up to know it was my mother telling my aunt everything she’d just told me. If mom mentioned the lie I’d told her about running with Ashton, I knew my aunt would cover for me. She understood. She always had. I snuggled down into the covers and closed my eyes. For now, I can pretend this is my home, that I have a safe, happy place.

  * * *

  As I walked into the kitchen several hours later, the faint smell of bacon still filled the air. Ashton stood by the counter in her pajamas, hair mussed, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Morning,” I said, stopping beside the cabinet to get myself a coffee cup.

  “Oh, it’s my early-morning running buddy.” The teasing tone in her voice made me smile.

  “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I needed an excuse to get off the phone.”

  Ashton laughed and handed me the pot of coffee. “No worries. Mom covered for you according to the note she left us.” She pointed to the letter lying on the bar.

  I reached over and picked it up.

  Good morning girls,

  I hope you enjoyed your early-morning run. I have to say that when Caroline called me this morning and mentioned that you two were out running, I was a little surprised. I could have sworn I’d passed both your doors and they were closed tightly. But do not worry; I didn’t share that information with my sister. She believes you both enjoyed a nice, long run before coming inside to eat some of the bacon and eggs I fried up.

  Love,

  Mom

  I smiled to myself and laid the letter back down.

  “How does your mom manage to be so cool while mine is a crazed psycho?” I asked, taking a sip of my black coffee.

  Ashton di
dn’t even deny my mother’s insane tendencies. She gave me a sad frown and shrugged. “Why’d your mom call so early this morning?”

  I rolled my shoulders and set my cup back down. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but I knew hashing it out with someone other than my mom would make my decision easier.

  “Dad’s getting married.”

  Ashton’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward on the counter, resting on both elbows and studying me for a moment. I knew she was trying to gauge my reaction to the news.

  “You were expecting this, right?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, I was. But not so soon, and maybe not to a girl only five years older than I am.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Uncle Nolan is engaged to a twenty-three-year-old?”

  It sounded ludicrous when she said it aloud too. My dad was not an attractive guy. Sure, I loved him, but he was old and balding. Not to mention, he had a potbelly. “Crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah, real crazy . . . Are you okay? Is he going to call you?”

  I wasn’t sure if I had ever been okay, even when both my parents had lived at home. They’d fought constantly. Most of my memories growing up had a scene in them where my mother was screaming at my dad.

  “I’m fine. He’s supposed to call today. His fiancée . . . She wants me to be her maid of honor. I’ve never even met her. I think I’m going to ask him if I can just be his best man—woman. I think I could rock a tux.”

  Ashton let out a long sigh then walked around the bar to stand beside me. She wrapped her arm around my waist and squeezed. “When you want to talk, rant, or even cry, I’m here.”

  My eyes welled up, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t like people thinking I was weak. I’d never been one to share my emotions; I kept things inside, dealt with them on my own. But knowing someone was there and cared—it meant a lot, more than she would ever know. I rested my head against hers, and we stared out at the backyard together in silence. There wasn’t much more to say. Just having someone there next to me made things so much easier.

  SAWYER

  Beau: What days do you have to be in Florida for practice?

  Me: Three days a week, starting in July.

  Beau: Bama is the same. We’ve really only got June to take that camping trip.

  Me: I’m ready when you are.

  Beau: You talked to Lana?

  Me: Not today. Just got back from working out at the field house.

  Beau: Ash is spending the morning with her. She’s got some shit going on with her parents.

  I stared down at Beau’s last text. Lana being upset made me anxious. I wasn’t sure I liked that. I didn’t have time for anything more than a summer fling.

  Me: I’ll call her. Thanks.

  Beau: Be careful with her.

  I didn’t respond. This wasn’t his business. During the end of my relationship with Ashton he’d been more involved than he should have been, but I’d let it slide because Ash was a part of his life too. But Lana . . . She was not his concern. Throwing the phone down on the bed, I headed to the bathroom for a shower. I’d already planned out a day where I could have Lana all to myself anyway. It had been my inspiration while running up and down the bleachers one hundred times.

  * * *

  “Where you headed, sweetheart?” called my mom from her office as I passed it on my way to the garage. I’d hoped to sneak by her without having to answer her questions. She’d been upset when Ashton had broken up with me; she’d been even more upset when she’d found out Beau had been my replacement. We’d spent a lot of time in counseling together to deal with my dad’s dishonesty and find a way to face the truth without ripping our family apart. I still wanted Dad to reach out to Beau, but he wouldn’t. There was no way Beau was going to make the first move. He had a lot of well-deserved bitterness inside him where my dad was concerned.

  “I’m headed to pick up Lana—you remember Ashton’s cousin from Georgia. We’re going to Mobile to do some shopping for camping gear and maybe catch a movie or something.”

  Mom tilted her head and frowned. “Isn’t Lana the daughter of that crazy sister of Sarah’s?”

  I didn’t know much about Lana’s mom other than that Ashton was not a fan. Shrugging, I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Lana isn’t crazy. That’s all that matters.”

  “Hmmph . . . well, don’t get too attached. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  My aunt Honey’s voice had rung in my ears not too long ago when she’d said the same thing about my dad and Beau. Scowling, I replied, “Yeah, I realized that when I found out Dad was unfaithful and then lied about it to those he was supposed to love.”

  My mother’s back went ramrod straight. I hated the hurt look I’d put in her eyes. She didn’t deserve my anger. She’d been a victim too.

  “Sorry, Mom—”

  “I shouldn’t have butted into your business. You’re right. Go have fun. Enjoy yourself this summer. Everything changes this fall. There’s a big sea out there with lots of fish, and now you and Ashton have moved on. It’s time you start sampling the variety.”

  Mom had loved Ashton. I think she may have even picked out our china patterns at one point. Hearing her say that I needed to start “sampling the variety” was a major step for her. I walked across the room and bent down to place a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Love you,” I said before turning to leave.

  “I love you, too, sweet boy,” she replied.

  “You heard from Cade and Catherine? He hasn’t texted me this week.”

  My brother was normally pretty attached to me, but he’d turned thirteen this year and he didn’t seem to need me so much anymore. Catherine was different. She was a momma’s girl. I didn’t expect her to call or text me.

  “Catherine called this morning. They are having a good time. Cade has made friends with the little girl next door. Catherine said she and Gaga are shopping a lot.”

  Gaga was my mother’s mother. She was much better with girls than she was with boys. I cleared my throat and leaned a hip against the desk. “You do realize that thirteen-year-old boys don’t ‘make friends’ with little girls. They are hooking up. I was real aware of girls when I was thirteen. Those were my Nicole years, remember?”

  Mom cringed. “I’d forgotten about that. Maybe I should call Gaga and talk to her. I keep thinking he’s my little boy, but he’s a teenager now, isn’t he?”

  Chuckling, I stood up and patted her hands she’d started wringing. “Yep, Momma, he’s a teenager all right and I’d be willing to bet he and the girl next door aren’t playing Monopoly with all their free alone time.”

  “Oh God. I’m calling Gaga now,” she announced reaching for the phone.

  I’d done my big brother duty. It was time to go see Lana.

  Chapter 12

  LANA

  “No, Daddy,” I said. “It isn’t that I don’t want to be there. I do. It’s just that I’ve never been in New York City, and I’ve never met Shandra. I’d feel more comfortable if I could bring someone with me.”

  “You can bring anyone but your mother,” my dad said. “I don’t want to have to deal with her. I do want you to make time to spend with Shandra. She really wants to get to know you. We’ve got some special news for you.”

  “Special news?”

  Dad cleared his throat, covered the receiver on his phone, and spoke in a muffled voice to someone else. What other news could he have? He’d already dropped the marriage bomb on me. Surely, they weren’t moving to Alpharetta. That would be disastrous. My mother would not be able to leave the house without thinking everyone was talking about her or pitying her.

  “Shandra wants me to go ahead and tell you. That way you can be prepared when you get here.”

  “Okay . . . ,” I replied, waiting with a sick knot in my stomach.

  “You’re going to be a big sister,” he replied. His excitement was unmistakable.

  “What? How? Does Shandra have a kid?” Nothin
g else made sense. Why would he think I’d be excited over a stepsibling I’d never get a chance to know?

  “No, Shandra doesn’t have a kid . . . yet. You know how. You’re eighteen years old, Lana. You know how babies are made . . . don’t you? I assumed your mother explained that—”

  “I know how babies are made, Daddy. What I don’t understand is . . . Wait . . . She’s pregnant?” I asked in horror. My dad had gotten someone pregnant? He was almost fifty! Could old men do that? Ugh! Yuck. He was going to be like the kid’s grandfather.

  Dad chuckled into the phone. “Yes, Shandra is pregnant. We’d planned on getting married this Christmas. She loves Christmas in New York, but, well, the baby will be here by Christmas, so instead of waiting, we decided to go ahead and have a summer wedding.”

  I was speechless. How did one respond to this kind of news? I sank down on the back-door steps of Ashton’s house and rested my forehead on my knees.

  My dad continued to chatter on about the wedding and baby plans. They would be moving out of Manhattan and to New Jersey so that they could afford a house. I wouldn’t have a room, but I could share the baby’s room when I came to visit. He told me I was welcome anytime.

  “Lana?” Sawyer’s voice was a welcome distraction.

  Lifting my head, I stared up at Sawyer who was standing in front of me with a worried frown. I wondered how much he’d heard.

  “Daddy, I need to go. My, uh, friend just got here, and we have plans. I’ll call you back later when I’ve decided what to do.”

  “You are coming though—”

  “I’m not sure, Daddy. I need to go now. I’ll call when I know.” I clicked end before he could say any more. I couldn’t yet stand up to leave; I needed a moment.

  “You okay?” Sawyer asked, lowering himself to sit down beside me since it was obvious I wasn’t about to get up.

  I started to nod and ended up shaking my head instead.