Chase The Butterflies Page 10

  But I place my finger over his lips. He can’t finish that sentence because it makes this too real. It makes this a two-way street, and I can’t deal with that. I’m trying to do what’s right even though it feels so wrong.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. But I moved here to get away from drama and complications. Us being anything but neighbors is a huge complication.”

  He closes those intelligent eyes for the briefest of seconds and then exhales. “We’re more than neighbors…and you know it.” I open my mouth but close it when he bends forward and kisses me lightly on the forehead. “I know none of this makes any sense, but it will. You’re strong. You just have to believe in yourself.”

  There are no words to follow, so I rest my head against his shoulder, hoping that belief comes one day soon.

  Over the next few days, I come to realize that I haven’t grieved. With the physical attack, then the affair, my body shut down to any emotion and locked down into survival mode. I feel like I’m only just now going through the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I sometimes experience one or all of these emotions on any day. No wonder I’m a mess.

  As I walk down the stairs, I pause in awe. Charley has done a wonderful job of decorating. She’s used the bare minimum to transform my house into a cozy little home. “So how long does this go for?” I inquire, looking at my garlanded surroundings.

  “I didn’t really put an end time on the invite, Tori. That would be kind of un-neighborly,” she explains, adjusting the scented candles on the mantel.

  “So I guess flicking the lights on and off at midnight would be kind of rude, then?”

  She giggles, but who said I was joking?

  “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

  A night with a bottle of wine, my pjs, and Bradley Cooper is my idea of fun. But I put my happy face on.

  When the doorbell chimes, Charley smooths out her stunning red cocktail dress. “Go answer the door. I’ve got to check on the hors d’oeuvres.” She dashes to the kitchen before I can object.

  Sighing, I put on my big girl panties and inhale deeply, hoping to fill my lungs with enthusiasm. Forcing a smile, I tell myself this is what I need to do to move on.

  I continue with that frame of mind as I open the door to a group of strangers who yell, “Happy housewarming!” I take a step backward, afraid they’re going to tell me about Jesus.

  “Welcome, we’re the Andersons. We hope you like lobster tail.” Before I have a chance to tell her I’m allergic, she thrusts the colossal plate into my hands.

  A convoy proceeds for the next five minutes, and by couple number seven, I’ve forgotten who everybody is. Thank god for Charley and Mrs. Anderson, who are nice enough to stand by my side and help with introductions. I stick to both like glue, happy to blend into the background. I barely speak a word.

  The moment Charley ducks into the kitchen, Debra Higgins, my neighbor from two doors down, makes a beeline for me while I throw back my wine.

  “How do you like it here?” Debra asks. She’s a middle-aged woman who looks friendly enough, but she definitely isn’t someone I’d share my deepest, darkest secrets with. During the evening, I’ve seen her eavesdrop on almost every conversation within earshot.

  “It’s great,” I reply, stealing a glass of champagne from a waiter.

  “Have you met Henry Sands yet?”

  That name has me almost choking on my drink. “Yes, I have.” I don’t go into further detail.

  “Well, he and my husband are best friends. They have been for years,” she reveals, reaching for a mini quiche from a passing waiter.

  I nod, sipping my champagne and scanning the room for a familiar face, like Jude’s.

  Her brown eyes widen in excitement at the prospect of gossip. Leaning in close, she whispers from behind her hand, “Just awful what happened to Rose.” Her omission has me stopping mid-sip. She tucks a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “I’ve said too much.” Even though she has, I know she won’t stop.

  I don’t want to know, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “What happened?”

  She moves in closer. “Poor Henry… not only did his only daughter up and leave without a trace over twelve months ago, but he’s now been restricted on how often he sees his grandson. It’s such a shame. He loves that little boy. But I don’t know why he’s so intent on gaining full custody. The child looks so much like his father. You’d think he’d want nothing to do with him as there is no blood lost between him and Rose’s husband.”

  “She was married?” I ask, voicing my thoughts aloud.

  She nods.

  This makes the betrayal so much worse. She not only left her son behind, but she left her husband, too. Why?

  “Who is Angus’s father?”

  Her eyes feast around the room. They widen once they land on the front door. “Him.”

  I follow her finger’s path, almost falling over my feet when I see who she’s pointing at. My brain can’t process the information fast enough. “Jude? Jude is Angus’s father? Rose’s husband?”

  “Yes. You know him?” she queries, her tone filled with interest.

  “Yes. I do.” I’m surprised I can construct a coherent sentence right now.

  “We all know Henry blames Jude for what happened to Rose.”

  My head snaps up. “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s his fault Angus is deaf. If he hadn’t been MIA the night Angus was born, Rose wouldn’t have ended up running off that embankment while driving herself to the hospital.”

  I cover my gaping mouth with a trembling hand.

  “Poor Rose was unconscious for god knows how many minutes, her and Angus suffering. Henry was the one who found her. He rushed her to the hospital and almost lost both of them. They both pulled through, but Angus was born with his defect.”

  I blindly reach for two champagne glasses as the waiter passes us by. Debra smiles, extending her hand out to reach for one, but these are both mine. I gulp down the contents of one, then down the other. This is too horrible to digest. My heart bleeds for Angus. And for Henry to find his daughter that way—I can’t even begin to imagine his pain.

  But to say it was Jude’s fault is nothing short of unfair.

  No one can say that. Fate doesn’t work that way.

  The truth is, everything happens for a reason, and even though that reason may be completely unfair, it’s part of your life’s plan—part of your stepping-stones in living. So what doesn’t happen today will probably happen tomorrow. It’s all mapped out because no one can change destiny.

  “It’s unfair to blame Jude,” I whisper, watching him as his eyes land my way.

  “That child was premature, hardly developed,” she argues. “He was starved for oxygen. He’ll never be able to function properly. It probably would have been best if he died. What kind of life can he lead? He’ll never marry.”

  My blood boils, and I feel my cheeks heat to the flames of hell. Just as I’m about to throw her ignorant ass out, I hear a gruff voice to my left.

  “Sorry, I’m late.” The familiar, rough voice has Debra turning around nervously and smiling innocently.

  Peering over at the clock on the mantel, I see that Henry’s not overly tardy.

  “Out saving the day again, were you?” teases Debra.

  Henry doesn’t crack a smile. All vigilante talks are over when he clears his throat. “Thanks for inviting me, Victoria.”

  Thankful to change the subject, I smile. “My pleasure, Henry. Although I can’t take credit for any of this.” I see Charley mingling with Jude and point her out. “That amazing woman did all the hard work.” Henry follows my line of sight. His face instantly hardens when he sees who she’s talking to.

  Debra doesn’t look a tad guilty while I’m almost certain Henry knows we were talking about him seconds ago. “Is Jillian with you?” I ask, needing to fill the silence.

  Henry shakes his head. “No, she said to pass on her apologies. She has
a migraine.”

  Debra’s eyebrows rise into her hairline, and I wonder why. This entire situation is giving me heartburn.

  I’m about to excuse myself when I hear a familiar smug voice. “Good evening, neighbors.”

  The incensed lines etched between Henry’s brow, and the way his mouth is pulled into a thin, angry line can only mean one thing. He’s seconds away from starting World War III in my living room.

  “Hi, Jude.” When I turn to face him, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. The room is crackling with tension, and an unseen anger hums close to boiling point.

  “Hi, Victoria. Great party. Thanks for inviting me.” When he gazes over my shoulder to where Henry stands, I hear teeth grinding.

  I nod. “No problem. Thanks for coming.” Both men make no secret of their mutual hate for one another.

  “Hey, Henry?” I bite the inside of my cheek when Jude addresses Henry. He gets a grunt in response. “Have you tried the pigs in blankets? They’re to die for.” Debra clears her throat, tugging at her gold chain. “The house looks good, Victoria.” It’s the first thing he’s said that isn’t dripping with sarcasm. He peers over at the red chair, his lips pulling into a tight smile. He’s the only person who understands the significance of it, and for that, I’m unexpectedly glad.

  “T-thanks,” I reply when I finally find my voice.

  Those piercing blue eyes soften, making me forget everything I’ve just heard.

  I knew from the moment I met him that he was different, but I just didn’t know how much. His tattoo now takes on a whole different meaning as it could denote so many different things. No matter if he were MIA, he can’t be held responsible for Rose jumping into her car and ending up off the road. He also can’t be held accountable for Angus’s condition.

  Bad things happen as often as good things—that’s the balance of life.

  “Hey, everyone.” The moment Charley walks over, I exhale in relief. “Tori, can you spare five minutes? There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  I steal a glance at Jude, admiring the guts it took for him to be here tonight. He knew Henry and the mass of judgmental neighbors would be here, yet he still came. “Save me a dance?”

  “Sure,” he replies, a genuine smile spreading across his full lips.

  I loop my arm through Charley’s, hinting she lead the way. When we’re a safe distance away, she whispers from the side of her mouth, “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” When she’s about to object, I add, “You’ll need to be sitting down for the bombshell I’m about to drop.”

  She thankfully doesn’t argue.

  “So who wants to see me? Or was that a genius ploy to get me away from the mob of neighbors and their pitchforks?”

  I expect her to laugh, but when her lips pull into a tight, thin line, I know something is wrong. Before I have a chance to ask what’s going on, a set of familiar eyes come into view. “Mom?” I almost choke on the word.

  My mother, Annabel, looks exactly how I remember. Large hazel eyes, long brown hair, and freckle-kissed skin. She looks exactly like me. And her. I can’t exactly remember the last time I saw my mom, but I know it’s been months. All my days since the accident have blended into one.

  “I miss you, honey,” she coos, her voice bringing back so many happy memories. Those memories get shit on, however, when she adds, “We all do.”

  This is the reason I don’t answer her calls. She doesn’t know when to stop. I have told her until I’m blue in the face that I will talk to Matilda when I’m ready. But when she insists on pressing, I retreat.

  “Your sister―” And that’s my cue to tune out. I go to another place, a place where there is no sorrow, just stillness. I find myself going to this place often because it’s better than facing the nightmares.

  “I just wish you’d come home. If you did, all of this would be over.” Her voice grows softer and softer. “Bryan and Matilda, they both miss you. Your father, too. Months ago, your life was ripped out from under you, and now here you are in―”

  Just as I sink deeper into despair, a warmth spreads through me, and I’m yanked into the now. I don’t even need to open my eyes because I know it’s Jude. “You let her in?” he scolds as he wraps me in his arms. I bury my nose into his soft sweater.

  “I-I’m sorry. I thought it’d help her,” Charley quickly apologizes.

  “Help her how?” He tightens his hold around me, not disguising his anger.

  “I don’t know. We need to do something. If we don’t, she’ll fade away.”

  Although I’m standing right here, I feel so detached from the conversation. I hate feeling this way. I just want to get better. Charley is right. I am fading away. Each day, I’m losing who I am.

  Unwrapping myself from the comfort of Jude’s arms, I wipe my nose, determined not to cry. His inky blue stare contains nothing but concern. How I’ve come to rely on him so quickly scares me. “I’m fine, Jude.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, I affirm, “Promise.”

  With a sense of hesitancy, he reaches out and brushes a strand of fallen hair from my brow. He always appears so affected when we touch. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

  I nod. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

  Something changes in his face, but it’s gone a second later. “Did you want me to kick everybody out?” A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

  I can’t help but laugh. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I better see this through. This is all part of moving on, right?” Both he and Charley nod, smiling sadly.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn to look at my mom, who has tears welling in her eyes. I wish I was the daughter she remembers, but I’m not. Something has changed inside me.

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  A single tear slips down her cheek, and just like that, she accepts my need for space. She turns her back and walks out the door.

  When the night comes to an end, and we’re cleaning up, I fill Charley in on all the gossip. She’s as surprised as I am. She can’t believe Jude has an eight-year-old son since we’re guessing he can be no older than thirty. After discovering Henry’s past, I must admit I do feel for him, but there is something I can’t quite put my finger on. I get a sense that under his cool, calm composure lays a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.

  Thankfully, both Henry and Jude stayed away from one another as I didn’t fancy cleaning blood from my walls.

  Debra’s comment about Henry wanting full custody has me thinking that Jude is trying everything in his power to keep Henry away from his grandson. I can’t help but speculate. Is he the reason Rose left?

  “I think my ovaries exploded tonight.”

  I turn to look at Charley, snapping out from my Jude bubble. “What are you talking about?”

  “Those subtle looks between you and Mr. Hot Pants.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  I scrunch up my nose as I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  “Jude was so eye flirting with you,” she states animatedly.

  “What is that? Is that even a thing?”

  “It is when Jude Montgomery is involved.”

  “Oh, you found out his surname.” I decide to comment on that rather than address her ridiculous claims.

  “I found out a lot of things,” she says in a singsong voice.

  So did I.

  After everything I’ve found out about him, you’d think I’d want to stay away. But the funny thing is, I’m now even more intrigued.

  “Goddamn, he may be a cocky son of a gun, but did you see that ass?”

  I roll my eyes, but yes…yes, I did.

  Needing to change the subject, I ask, “Did you see Mrs. Anderson? She was carrying on like she owned the place. I was certain she was going to make a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ speech.”

  Charley nods but doesn’t comment. She drops her half-filled garbage bag and stifles a yawn behind her hand. “I’m beat. See you tomo
rrow?” I nod, her yawn contagious. “Happy housewarming. Your gift is upstairs,” she sweetly states before making a beeline for the door.

  “My what?”

  “Don’t be mad.” She hugs me quickly before sprinting down the driveway.

  I watch with curiosity as she gets into a hybrid. “What happened to the Fiat?” I call out, but she doesn’t reply. She waves with a grin as she drives away. What is she up to now?

  Just as I’m about to turn out the lights, there’s a knock on my front door. Wishing I could ignore it, I lumber down the hallway, wondering if Charley left something behind. However, it’s not Charley standing before me, but rather, Henry. I don’t know why he’s here.

  “Sorry to turn up announced.”

  “That’s okay. Did you leave something behind?” I ask. That’s the only reason I can think to why he’s here.

  He clears his throat, the sound so somber like his appearance. “I’m going to be brief. I couldn’t help but notice that you and Jude Montgomery looked…acquainted.”

  I fold my arms over my chest defensively, blocking the doorway, as I’m not inviting him inside after that remark. “Yes, he’s been kind enough to fix a few things around my home.”

  He clenches his jaw. “I know you’re new in town, so I’m going to give you a friendly piece of advice—stay away from him. Jude Montgomery is bad news. Nothing but trouble follows him.”

  There was absolutely nothing friendly about that statement. Not to mention, something similar was said about him hours ago.

  This guy has some nerve coming into my home and telling me who I can or can’t be friends with. He may have control over this town, but he certainly doesn’t have control over me. Nevertheless, for argument’s sake, I nod. “Thanks for the tip, Henry.”

  As I attempt to shut the door, he wedges his foot into the way. His anger is almost blinding. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Jude is my son-in-law.” I continue staring at him, indicating that if he has a point, then to make it. “I’ve known that boy for years, and he’s never changed. He’s a thug, a lowlife. If you’re seen with the likes of him, well…”