Perfect Kiss by Lacey Black

Chapter 24

Leni

What a day. I’m exhausted, emotional, and ready to crawl into bed, and it’s only seven.

When Trace got out of school, I picked him up and went for a ride. I didn’t have any other scheduled clients today, so we got on the road and drove to Billings for dinner. We found a great hamburger joint, placed an order to go, and took our meal to the park, where he played until he was practically ready to pass out himself from the fun. Now, we’re back home, and all I can think about is bedtime and maybe a bottle of wine.

The first thing I do when I unload my bag on the counter is plug in my phone. It’s been dead all day, but it hasn’t bothered me. In fact, I’ve enjoyed the break. It was nice to shut everything off and just be.

Do I feel guilty? Sure do. I own a business, and even though my dad’s number is listed as a secondary emergency contact for the laundromat, I still should have charged my phone before now. The thing is, I knew what would happen if I had a working phone. I’d reread that blog post and obsessively scour the internet for more. Social media wouldn’t be my friend, that’s for sure. So I did the one thing I’d probably chastise someone I loved for if the shoes were on the other foot and kept my phone off.

As soon as it gets a little juice, I see it power on, and I dread what I’ll find when it’s back online. Instead of waiting, I head down the hallway toward the bathroom and start the tub. “Hey, Trace, get ready for your bath. The tub is filling up,” I holler, setting a clean washcloth onto the side of the tub before I head across the hall.

“Can my friend Parker come over this weekend?” he asks, stripping his shirt and shorts off and throwing them in the hamper beside his closet.

Trace has been talking about Parker Carlson since he got into my car after school. Parker is the son of one of my clients, the local physician, and they’ve been playing together at recess. “Not this weekend. Daddy’s coming for a visit, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” he says, a hint of excitement in his hazel eyes. “But I don’t have to stay at the hotel, right?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Daddy and I will figure it out when he gets here Friday, okay?”

Trace nods before running across the hall, stripping off his underwear, and jumping into the tub. “Can I have my boat?” he asks, pointing to the plastic toy I keep outside of the tub. Otherwise, it’s so large, it falls into the tub and I trip over it while I’m showering.

“Keep the water inside the tub, will ya? I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I announce, shutting off the tap and returning to the kitchen to check my phone.

Of course, it blew up. I have fourteen missed calls and twice as many messages. Guilt consumes me even more as I scan the names of the missed calls, knowing they’ll be the same names in my text messages too.

Laken:Just checking on you.

Laken:I’m sure you’re busy working, but still wanted to see how you’re doing. I know today has sucked. Let me know.

Mom:Hi, sweetie. Laken just called here looking for you. Is everything ok?

Laken:I called Mom. Don’t make me call Dad too.

Laken: This isn’t funny. You better be super busy or stuck in the bathroom with explosive diarrhea. Those are the only excuses for not texting me back.

Laken:This isn’t funny. I’m getting really worried.

Laken:Grayson is on his way to your apartment.

Laken:You’re not there. Where are you?

Laken: You better be dead! No, I don’t mean that. I’m just really worried, Len. Call me. NOW!

Fuck. This is bad.

I press the call button and bring the device to my ear. Laken answers on the first ring. “What the absolute fuckity fuck, Leni! I’ve been terrified someone kidnapped and murdered you!” she bellows.

“I’m so sorry, Lake. My phone died this morning, and I didn’t charge it. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I reply, feeling like a small child, full of embarrassment and regret.

“It’s not just me. Half the town’s freaking out.”

That makes me pause. “Half the town?”

She sighs. “Well, no, not half the town. But Mom and Dad have been calling you, I made poor Grayson go looking for you while I was at work, Justine has been keeping her eye out, and then there’s Malcolm,” she says, pausing after she says his name. “You should call him.”

Now it’s my turn to take a deep breath. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”

“No, it’s absolutely the right idea. Call him, Leni. He’s beside himself. He’s been looking for you all day.”

“Where at? Pony Up? Jessa’s house?” I retort, unable to hide my hurt.

“Listen, Len, this isn’t my story to tell, but just know, sometimes things aren’t what they seem. This town has a way of getting it wrong and making it worse with each repeat. You of all people should know that.”

I close my eyes, the words from the blog coming back to me. How could I have gotten it wrong? Either they left together or they didn’t, right? “I’m sorry I upset and worried you. That was never my intention. I forget sometimes what it’s like to have a tribe in your corner.”

“We were always in your corner, big sister, but from a much farther distance. Now that you’re back in Mason Creek, we’re right beside you.”

“I know, and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. I hate to ask, but can you call Mom for me. Apologize and tell her about my phone. Tell her Trace and I went to Billings for dinner and are home now. I promise to call her tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll call her as long as you promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll let Malcolm know you’re okay.”

“Lake,” I grumble, throwing a slight temper tantrum like a spoiled child.

“Please, Len. If you don’t, I will. He’s been worried sick.”

I take a deep breath and concede. “Fine, I’ll send him a text message before I help Trace wash up in the tub.”

She sighs in relief. “Thank you. And yes, I’ll take care of Mom.”

“You’re the best,” I say, meaning it with my whole heart.

“Naw, you’d do the same for me. Now go. Give my nephew a kiss from me.”

“Will do,” I say before signing off.

Knowing I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts before I send the text she’s pushing for, I check on Trace in the bathtub. He’s wearing a huge toothless grin and covered in soapy bubbles, having grabbed his shower gel and scrubbing himself from head to toe.

I help him finish his bath, and the moment he’s wrapped in a towel, he holds up his hand and says, “Look! I’m all pruney!” and bursts into fits of giggles.

“You are, pruney boy. Go put your underwear and pajamas on, and I’ll get a movie started in the living room.”

“Can we watch the baseball movie?” he asks, excitement filling his eyes.

“Yes, we can watch The Sandlot, but we won’t be able to see the whole movie tonight. It’s a school night, and you have a bedtime.”

“Okay. But can I see to the part where the big dog chases them?” His eyes are full of excitement.

“Probably not, buddy. That’s toward the end of the movie. We’ll watch for thirty minutes, and then we’ll read one book. Sound like a deal?”

He nods before taking off into his room to get into his pajamas. As I fire up the DVD player and get the movie set, there’s a knock on the door downstairs. I don’t have a lot of visitors here, but occasionally someone using the laundromat has a problem they need help with, so I hurry downstairs to see what the problem is. When I glance through the peephole, a gasp falls from my lips.

My hands are slightly shaky as I turn the lock and open the door. Our eyes meet, and I swear I feel waves of relief rolling off his body. The tightness in his shoulders just seems to fade away, and the faintest smile plays on his lips. “Thank Christ,” Malcolm mutters, closing his eyes for the briefest second before finding my gaze once more.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice small and tight. Damn, he looks good, even if his clothes are slightly wrinkled, his hair a little wild, and he clearly didn’t shave this morning.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he states, as if that’s the most logical answer in the world.

“I’m sorry. My phone died this morning, and I didn’t have time to charge it,” I answer, even though that’s not entirely true. I could have found time, just didn’t want to talk to anyone.

He nods once and holds my gaze. After a few long seconds, he finally asks, “Can I come in? And talk?”

I glance up the stairs. “Trace is getting ready to watch a movie, and—”

“Please, Leni,” he whispers, his eyes full of pain. “We can wait until he goes to bed, but I really think we need to talk. There’s some things I need to explain, and then if you want me to leave, I will.”

A huge part of me wants to shut the door, to push him away so this horrible hurt in my chest will dissipate, but I know he’s right. That’s why I take a step back and hold the door open for him to enter.

“Thank you,” he says, brushing past me as he steps inside the small space. My body instantly responds to his nearness, his touch, his scent. It’s like it doesn’t care he betrayed me. One graze of his skin against mine sets me on fire with desire, despite the overwhelming disappointment and anger I feel.

Go figure.

I lock the door and head up the stairs when he doesn’t move, waiting on me to ascend first. Just as we step inside the kitchen, Trace bursts from his bedroom. “I’m ready to watch…Malcolm!” he exclaims, changing the course of his statement and the direction he’s running. My son runs straight to Malcolm and throws himself in his arms.

“Hey, Champ,” Malcolm replies, catching him easily in his arms and returning the hug my little boy gives him.

“Did you come to watch The Sandlot with me?” Trace asks, eyes wide with anticipation.

Malcolm looks at me for direction. I don’t want to talk with little ears within earshot, so I nod. “Sure, I can watch a little bit of it with you,” Malcolm responds, setting Trace down on the worn linoleum.

Trace takes his hand and drags him into the living room. They sit together on the couch, my son tucked comfortably into Malcolm’s side, as I press the play button on the remote. The entire time, I try not to look over at the picture-perfect image they create.

The movie starts, and I take the opportunity to wash a few dishes in the sink, making sure to keep my eye on the clock, since it’s already approaching bedtime. Every time Trace says something to Malcolm or gets excited at one of his many favorite parts of the movie, I can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness. What if this is the end? Trace will be losing someone he has quickly become accustomed to having in his life. A friend. Someone who takes him fishing, includes him in our date nights, and is currently making promises to play catch with him very soon.

It hurts too much to think about having to explain to Trace why Malcolm isn’t coming around anymore.

I close my eyes and hang my head, trying not to think about the hurt my son will feel. It’s the same hurt I saw in his eyes every time he asked about his dad and I had to tell him he was away working. Greg better not flake out on him again. If he loses Malcolm, and then Greg too, I’m not sure Trace’s little heart can stand it.

Warm hands are hesitantly placed on my shoulders before gently squeezing in support. “It’s going to be okay, Leni. I promise,” Malcolm whispers, kissing the back of my head and holding me close.

He leaves me torn between wanting him to throw his arms around me and hug me tight or to not touch me because it hurts my heart too much. The former is currently outweighing the latter at this moment.

When the clock finally hits thirty minutes, I turn off the DVD and remind Trace of his bedtime. Instead of grumbling and begging for more time, he turns to Malcolm and says, “Can you come over tomorrow and watchded the rest of the movie with me?”

Malcolm grins. “We’ll see, Champ,” he says, giving my son a warm, positive smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Okay,” Trace says, throwing his arms around Malcolm’s neck. “I love you.”

Tears burn my eyes as I watch the display. Malcolm closes his eyes and smiles. “I love you too, Champ.” It literally feels like my heart is going to burst from my chest.

Trace jumps down and heads to his bedroom, most likely to pick out the book I’m reading tonight. “I’ll be back,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I don’t wait for Malcolm to reply. I can’t. I hightail it from the room, finally able to take a deep breath when I crawl onto Trace’s bed.

“This one,” he says, handing over the fishing book he picked out from my sister’s store.

I open the book and start to read, knowing this book will always remind me of the man in my living room. The one who stole my heart and may be about to give it back in pieces.