Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 8
The first was that Justin was the problem with Sarah. Somehow, some way, and maybe not (God, I hoped not) intentionally.
The second was me, that I was the problem. I’d started college classes two nights a week a little over a year ago. Maybe being gone more had caused Sarah to retreat into a shell…and become angry.
I let out a long breath, pulling my knees close to my chest, gazing at Justin’s outline. The lights were off in my room, but the nightlight in the hallway shone inside. God, I didn’t want to believe Justin had anything to do with Sarah’s change in behavior any more than I wanted to blame myself—but I had to face facts: either scenario was a possibility, and I’d have to explore both notions further.
Even in the dim light, my eyes were able to focus on part of the tribal tattoo painted on his back. The black wavy swirls over the entire breadth of his left shoulder had always fascinated me. Then I drank in his mass of longish dirty-blond hair. While he’d never let it grow past his shoulders, the unconventional length gave him a bit of a bad boy look, and I had to admit I liked that. I’d never said a word about it to him, but I suspected he knew anyway. Justin was one of the most confident men I’d ever met, and I knew he had no doubt that lots of women lusted after him. In fact, I was pretty certain he’d learned over the years how to play on his looks.
Jesus. I had to get some sleep or I’d have a hell of a time getting Devon to school tomorrow. I lay down, snuggling up to Justin, draping my arm over his torso while bringing my head close to his neck, breathing in the almost nonexistent scent of his cologne.
But I lay there as one minute ticked on to the next and the next, and I allowed my eyes to open again so they could trace the outline of that tattoo and I leaned back. After a bit, I rolled over again and started considering having another cigarette. It was then that I felt the motion of Justin rolling over onto his back, but I could barely understand the words he mumbled. “You’re pretty restless tonight.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Let it go, Randi. Just for tonight. It’ll all be there tomorrow.”
Easy for him to say. He’d been sound asleep. “I wish I could.”
What Justin said next surprised me, because it seemed out of character for him—which just hammered home to me how completely closed off I’d been from every soul I claimed to care about.
Except Justin was just a convenient friend, one who’d even called himself nothing more than a fuck buddy.
“It’s a choice. You have to decide to let it go just for now.”
Instead of tuning into his words, I rejected them. “Okay, fine. Then I guess I don’t want to.” I let out a long sigh, sitting up in bed again. “This is my little girl we’re talking about here. Somehow I’ve failed her.”
Justin finally rolled over to face me, his voice now sounding more awake. “Why do you think you’ve failed her?”
“Whatever’s going on with her has been happening for a long time. It took something this drastic for me to decide something needs to be done.”
Propping his chin in his palm, his elbow buried in the pillow, Justin finally opened his eyes—not that he could see a whole lot in the darkness of the bedroom. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You were hoping it was a phase. Anyone would do that.”
“I’m not so sure.” When Justin reached up, brushing the hair off my cheek with his free hand, I turned my head to face him. “Let me tell you what’s really eating at me. She didn’t start acting like this until last fall—maybe it was a little later, like around Christmas. But I’m thinking this behavior might be, um…she might be reacting to the fact that I’m going to school again and I’m here less, or…”
“Or maybe it’s because I’m around?”
I hoped he couldn’t hear the relief in my voice that he’d come to the same conclusion I had. “I’ve considered that.”
“It’s possible.”
“I know you didn’t know her that well before, but did she seem to change to you at all?”
“Like how?”
“Like…did she seem to act differently? She used to be so lively, cheerful, outgoing. And now she’s introverted, quiet. She hardly ever talks. She doesn’t even look happy, even when she should.”
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I didn’t know your kids well enough to know what they were like before.” We were quiet for a bit before he said, “Do you think I remind her of her stepdad?”
I didn’t even have to give it a lot of thought. “I doubt it. He was…you guys are really different. He was a big guy, hairy, burly, loud. And she hasn’t been around him much since the divorce. So I don’t think so.”
“I’m a big guy.”
“No, not like that. He was hulking, really broad in the shoulders—and you’re…I’m not making any sense.”
“What did he do for a living?”
“Truck driver—and it wasn’t long before I appreciated when he was on the road. I think that’s when I finally decided I’d had enough, when I saw how happy the kids and I were when he wasn’t around. We were—well, I was more like my old self. But maybe you’re right. Sarah was a lot quieter when he was around. I’d always thought she sensed my emotions, but she must have felt like I did…afraid that anything she might say could push