Page 30 of Beyond Question

Chapter Ten

Travis

By Sunday morning, I can’t fucking think straight and I’ve barely slept in two days. Which is probably why I can’t think straight, but whatever.

Paige hasconsumedme, and the more I think about how she walked away from me—again—how she found the perfect excuse to run, the more frustrated I become.

There are too many questions, too many unknowns, and with Cabot’s warning on repeat in my tired brain, I realize only one thing will fix this.

I need answers, and if Paige won’t talk to me, maybe her daughter will.

Grabbing my phone from atop my nightstand, I roll onto my back and kick the covers off, then scroll through my contacts until I find Bronte’s number.

Because I might be the playboy asshole Paige wants to believe I am, I have her daughter listed in my phone as simplyLegs. So before I hit her number to start the call, I change her name and save it asBronte Matthewsin my contacts.

See? I’m a changed man already.

Also, can we have a moment to appreciate how my bookish girl named her daughter Bronte? Maybe a smarter man who wasn’t thinking with his dick would have put two and two together, but in my defense, I didn’t know Bronte’s last name and I definitely didn’t know Paige had a daughter.

But now the signs are there. Those blue eyes are nearly identical.

“Ugh,” I groan as I climb out of bed and hit Bronte’s number to start the call on my way to the kitchen.

After a few rings, she picks up, sleep making her voice huskier than normal. “Travis?”

“Yeah, hey…” I pull the phone away from my face to check the time.Oh fuck.It’s not even seven o’clock yet. “Shit. Sorry, Did I wake you?”

“Is my mom okay?”

“Your mom…” My eyebrows rise slowly up my forehead. She must not know her mom left me standing on the curb like a schmuck Friday night and thinks I’m with her. Man, I wish. My bed is empty as hell. “Yeah, probably. I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her.”

“What—okay, um… why are you calling me?”

I sigh, questioning myself now that I’ve woken her up and maybe should have called herafterI’d had some coffee and a chance to think. “Sorry. I’m…” Staring at the empty coffee pot in my hand, I set it down. I can’t concentrate on two things at once when my mind is so messed up. “I need to talk to you about her. Your… mom.”

Bronte’s quick intake of air is audible over the phone line and I wince.

Is it that weird? What I said?

“Travis, this is…” She covers the mouthpiece of her phone as she murmurs something to someone and I smirk. Guess her date Friday night showed up after all. “Okay,” she finally says. “What happened?”

I set the coffee pot down and slump into a barstool. “She’s pissed at me.”

“I sort of got that much before I left, but I figured you two might have talked after I left.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“No, I’ve been… tied up.”

“I bet.” I snicker.

Bronte laughs softly, then whispers, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m glad one of us is getting laid.”

“Jesus, Travis, no. We’re talking about mymom.”

“Right. Sorry.” I drag my hand over my face. “Shit. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

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