Chapter Seventeen
Trent’s dreams were of soft sheets, pillowy clouds, fields of flowers that smelled like chocolate and cinnamon, and of the full, delicious lips of his new girlfriend.
His. Girlfriend. His. Melody.
He saw her, felt her, held her, made love to her over and over in his mind. He also smelled leather and candle wax, something else he couldn’t wait to try with her. She was staring at him through the cream-colored mask, her expressive brown eyes shining.
She was knocking on something, making a huge racket all of a sudden. He glanced around, trying to figure out where the loud banging noise was coming from. It was getting louder, breaking in to his pleasant, sexy dreams.
“Hey, open up, god damn it!”
His eyes opened. He rolled out of the bed and scrambled to his feet. After grabbing a pair of shorts, he stumbled out to the door and slid it open, rubbing his eyes and trying to figure out where Melody was. “Sheila,” he said, shocked and more than a little dismayed at the sight of her. Every time he laid eyes on her, he was reminded of what a total fool he’d been for her, about her, with her.
“Well, it would seem as though your daughter managed to slip through your overprotective clutches, Trent.” She crossed her arms. Her green eyes shone with something way too close to I-told-you-so for his taste. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe.
“Speak English please. You woke me up.”
She glared at his bare chest, then into his eyes, her lips turning up in that smile that had once captivated him, and now made him want to put his fist through the wall. “Well?” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice. Taylor. Something was up with Taylor.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“No, I’m not. Tell me what’s going on.”
She sighed. “She’s up north, Trent. She threw a party or something at that fucking obnoxious cabin. Some kid fell off the deck. The cops need us there.”
“What in the hell?” He stepped back. “The cops? A party? Off the deck?” He knew he was babbling but none of it would compute.
Sheila stayed in the hallway, glaring at him. She glanced at her phone, then put it to her ear. “Tay?”
“Give me that fucking thing.” He grabbed the phone out of her hand. “Taylor? What the fuck? Where are you? What were you thinking?”
The girl was sobbing so much he could barely hear her.
“Cut the shit, god damn it. Talk to me.”
“I…I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m s-s-s-sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He saw the note with his name on it and snatched it up, as he tried to formulate an answer to his beautiful, God-awful daughter. Knowing he had to own this, that he’d been the one to take his eye off the ball with her, he read through the note, then crumpled it in his hand. Wishing Melody was here, but knowing her mother was a priority for her and when she called, Melody went running, he tossed it in the trash.
“Put someone on the phone. An adult.” He was expecting it to be a policeman. But the voice he heard stopped him in his tracks.
“Trent? Honey?”
He put a hand on the kitchen counter to keep from keeling over. “What…are you doing there?”
“She…I…you were… Mierda.”
He closed his eyes. “A simple answer is all I require. Why are you there, and I’m here, staring at my ex-wife who has just informed me that Taylor threw a motherfucking party at my cabin and some kid is now in the hospital.” His vision was going wonky. The sound of his own heartbeat deafened him.
“She called. I answered it. It wasn’t…it wasn’t this bad then. She just needed a ride home—”
“A ride home. From fucking Petoskey?” He was yelling now. But he didn’t care.
“Well, yes. But…”
“Melody, just stop. Right there. I have to think. I have to get some clothes on. And, best of all, I have to drive all the way up there with the ex-Mrs. Hettinger.”
“Trent…I’m…”
“You had no business doing whatever it was you thought you were doing. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Without a doubt.”
“God damn it, Melody, don’t you dare get snippy with me.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“No, you lied to me so you could suck up to Taylor. And it backfired on you.” He held up a finger when Sheila held out her hand for her phone. “I have to go. I… We will be there in about three hours.”
“They’re taking all of them to the police station, so you should go there, not to the house.” Her voice was tight. He felt immediate regret for being so harsh. But fuck him to hell and back, this was beyond the pale. What in the name of all that as holy made her think doing any of this without telling him was a good idea?
“Melody…”
“No, no, you’re right. I have no business. None whatsoever. I’m going home now. Your daughter and her friends will be in police custody. The kid who fell only broke his leg. Good luck.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but the line was dead.
“Fuck!” He clenched his fists on his knees for a few seconds.
“Where is my daughter, Trent?” she demanded as she caught the phone he tossed her.
“Our daughter is in police custody, Shelia. Hang on. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
They were in his Jeep in seven minutes, pointed north. He did his best to ignore her all the way up, keeping the music cranked and providing her with enough monosyllabic answers to give her the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to chat. By the time he finally parked at the small police station, he’d ground his teeth so much his skull ached. He wanted to lay eyes on Melody. To reassure her that he didn’t mean to be a dick. But he’d blown that, big time.
He jumped down to the asphalt and ran to the front door, shoving it open and calling for Taylor, letting Sheila fend for herself.
“Can I help you?” A tall, unformed man stepped in front of him.
Trent pulled up short. “I’m Taylor Hettinger’s father. She’s here. The one with the…the house party?”
“Yes. This way.”
Sheila caught up with him. “I’m her mother.”
The officer opened a door, indicating they should head through it. Trent rubbed his temples, willing the headache away as he followed Sheila down the hallway. As they turned a corner, Trent pulled up short.
Taylor sat on a bench, her eyes red, her legs shaking. She was flanked by Tina—she of the not-terribly-observant mother—on one side. And Melody on the other. When she met his gaze him, his heart expanded at the sight of her beautiful brown eyes.
“Melody.”
She rose, lifting her chin. He saw the set of her jaw. Recognized the flash in her gaze. “I’ll leave this for you, now. I think my level of understanding of the situation has been exhausted.” She glanced back at Taylor. “Next time, think twice before lying to your parents.”
She walked up to him.
“Who’s this, Tay?” Sheila was beside the girl now, brushing her hair out of her face and glaring up at Melody.
“That’s Dad’s new…friend,” Taylor said, keeping her gaze on the floor.
“Then maybe the better question is, why is she here?”
Trent shot Sheila a hard glare. She met it halfway. “It’s a legit question, Trent. Who does she think she is, coming up here before us?”
Trent swallowed hard, hearing the gist of his words to Melody spit back at him. He looked from his ex-wife to Melody, then back again. By the time he met Melody’s eyes again, she was holding out her hand. When he didn’t move, she grabbed his arm and dropped the necklace—her collar—into his palm, and closed his fingers around it.
“Wait, Melody. I’m sorry. I was…”
“No, it’s all right. You were just speaking the truth. I had no business. So, I’m divesting myself of your business.”
He attempted to arrange his face in please-be-calm lines. “You’re overreacting. Now is not the time…”
She smiled at him, brushed her fingertips along his cheek. “Goodbye, Trent.”
She walked out, leaving him holding a piece of jewelry that to his mind was for all intents and purposes, a wedding ring, surrounded by his hell-cat of an ex-wife and his sixteen-year-old daughter who was being held by the cops on charges of breaking and entering and possession of booze and pot. He took a long, deep breath, shoved the necklace into his pocket and turned to the officer who was watching this particular trauma drama play out.
“All right. Tell me what happens next.”