Page 41 of All Jacked Up

He had gotten off the phone with me fast after that.

No, I couldn’t text him. If he’d kept reading, then he was probably putting some distance between us since he now knew the things I’d fantasized doing to him or with him.

Flopping back down on the bed, I closed my eyes. The trilogy that had been a bestseller and entertained romance readers everywhere should be something I was proud of. Not something I regretted.

Yet … here I was … wanting the same boy I’d wanted ten years ago and worrying that I’d done something to lose what I never had.

Funny how I hadn’t noticed that when I needed to talk to someone, Arden hadn’t come to mind. Not once had I texted or called him with something. It was always Jellie I called, and then if it was a topic that I wasn’t hiding from Ransom, I’d text him about it. But never Arden.

Why had I said yes to him again?

Sighing heavily, I sat back up and went to my closet to pull out a suitcase. I’d call Jellie tomorrow. She’d want to know. She might even want to come to Madison to help me. Not that I wanted her to see the trailer I’d grown up in or the condition it was most likely in now. I might put off that call. Just until I got there and saw what I was dealing with.

There was no way I was staying in that trailer. I’d get a hotel room. Maybe I should book my flight and hotel first. Then pack. God, I couldn’t believe I had to go back and face this. It had been easier to pretend she didn’t exist when she was alive. Block out the past and the hurt. Her death was going to force me to face it all again. Remember.

A slight ache began in my chest, and I paused. Was that it? The grief? I stood there, waiting, letting it sink in, and the pain spread. Through my memories, my childhood, the mom I’d longed for but never had, my childish desire to please her once, and with it all came the grief. But not for the woman who had died. But for the little girl who had never been loved.

I should probably see a therapist.

If I didn’t already need one, which I probably did, I was going to require one after this.

Dayton Anthony stepped into the office I’d been led to when I arrived at the Madison police station. He was the one who had called me and told me that they had found my mom in a meth house that they busted. She’d been dead on arrival, and the medical examiner estimated she had been for at least ten hours.

I stood up from the chair I’d been sitting in, feeling restless and needing to move.

His eyes widened for a moment, and then he hesitated. Itconfused me at first, but I realized then that he’d not seen me since high school. My pen name was a secret that my mother hadn’t known, and it hadn’t been spread throughout the town. To everyone here, I was just Noa Raines.

“I, uh—Noa?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He blew out a breath and gave me a nervous smile. “Um, not the time for this, but you, uh … you look different. New York City must’ve been good to you.”

“I believe I was just a late bloomer,” I replied.

That was what Melinda, Jellie’s mom, had called my transformation.

He cleared his throat, then let out a small chuckle. “Apparently so.” He stared at me for a moment, and the silence was getting awkward. Then he blinked, as if realizing why I was here. “Right. Okay, this isn’t required, but since you’re here, if you could, sign this form for your mom’s body to be released to the funeral home. I already had them send her to Brighton since you were on your flight, but I didn’t know if you were planning on a cremation or not. They’re waiting for your response. I told them to give you time to get here.”

His thick Mississippi twang was something I’d almost forgotten. Ransom had a drawl, but it wasn’t quite as strong. I wondered if that was because of the difference in the way they had been raised. Dayton hadn’t come from money. His father had been a coal miner, and his momma worked as a cook in the diner in town until she got pneumonia when he was thirteen. She had never come home from the hospital.

I reached out and took the paper and pen he held out. Glancing over it before signing it was a habit I’d gotten from my literary agent. She always insisted I read the contracts even if she approved them. The information was already filled out, and I signed the bottom.

“If you want her cremated, Brighton can handle that. They will also obtain the death certificate. I have Joe Mates’s number right here,” he said, pulling out a card from his back pocket. “He is who you’ll call to speak to about your wishes. I wrote his cell number on the back. He is expecting your call.” He paused and cleared his throat again.

“I didn’t figure you’d want to see the pictures of the scene. But I have them …” He trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor, as if he wasn’t sure if he should have said that or not.

I would assume most daughters would be crying, falling apart, showing some sign of emotion. I wasn’t most daughters. I started to tell him that seeing the photos wasn’t necessary when the door swung open.

Ransom Carver filled the entrance, taking all other thoughts from my head.

His gaze scanned the room until his eyes locked on me. They went back to Dayton with a slight narrowing. What was he doing here? And why did my heart have to begin beating wildly in my chest at the sight of him? I was dealing with my mother’s dead body, for heaven’s sake. I shouldn’t be reacting to the sight of … Ransom in a cowboy hat, jeans meant to stop traffic, and a black T-shirt that stretched over his broad, defined chest. Then his arms … the thick-cut biceps on display.

I was going to hell.

“Why are you here?” he demanded as his eyes met mine again.

“Uh, Mr. Carver, sir, this is a personal matter,” Dayton told him.

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