Page 16 of Happenstance
“There’s always someone,” his finger waved through the air, “You just have to know where to look. What’s the girl’s name?”
“Lana Crawford.”
“Lana Crawford?” His brow rose. “The girl that lives on the edge of town with her grandmother?”
“That’s the one.”
“Your mother is not going to be happy about this.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
I could handle my mother. Hell, Preston had been waiting for a reason to take her out of this world, but it’d be easier if I didn’t have to. She was still my mother. Besides, Ava was pretty close with her, and while I cared about my mother, I loved my sister.
“If it is, I’ll take care of it.” The next words he spoke removed any doubt I had about that statement. “Your mother might be my wife, but she’s not my blood.”
Chapter 5
Lana
Iwas seeing Preston everywhere. Hiding in the shadows. Staring at me from the corner of every room I entered, and in the mirror’s reflection. When I closed my eyes, there he was, with a sick smile on his face and a blade in his hand. It was the reality behind Micha’s words that got to me. Preston would shoot someone on main street during rush hour and not blink. Why was I so sure of this? Because he’d actually done it, and he didn’t spend a day in jail.
I was more worried about Sean than I was myself. The next day when he saw me at school and I jerked away from him, I saw the hurt in his eyes. He didn’t understand. That’s when I knew, he didn’t remember. It was a bit of a relief, honestly, because the same guy that bandaged my knee when I fell off the swings would never hurt me. He’d kill anyone that did. Exactly why he could never find out what happened that night. It would not only destroy him, but Harper as well. They both carried so many crosses for me. It was my turn to shoulder pain for them.
So I told myself that the man who held me down and forced himself inside me wasn’t Sean. He just wore his body. Did it help? Not really. It was still his eyes that haunted my nightmares. His raspy grunts I heard wafting through my ears. And his spicy scent that made me want to throw up. Every time I heard his voice, I was brought back to that moment, and the way the moon shone down on us.
The only thing that chased away the nightmares was thinking about another night. The way someone else touched me, and the words they whispered in my ear. Parker Whitley should not be my saviour. I hated him for the way he treated me. Paying me off like a whore. But that didn’t stop my mind from seeking him out as a refuge from my fear.
I hugged the toilet and wretched out the last of my breakfast.Morning sickness, indeed. Every morning this month, I spent at least an hour praying to the porcelain gods. The easy way out of this situation would be to take care of the problem. Girls did it all the time. But every time I thought about walking into that clinic, I felt more sick than I was right now. This baby was innocent. It didn’t ask for any of this, or choose to be made. However its inception came to be, it wasn’t this child’s fault. And it was a part of me.
Knowing what I was going to do, I sighed and glanced down at my stomach. It was time to tell Nan.
“Lana, honey,” Nan knocked on the door, “Are you okay?”
Sometimes that woman seriously scared me. It was like she could sense my thoughts.
“I’m fine.”I was so not fine.“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay, hurry up. We have to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, Nan.”
Using the sink, I pulled myself up and rinsed my mouth out. The minty mouthwash cut through the bitter taste of vomit, but did nothing to dull my guilt. No amount of toothpaste or mouthwash could take that away. No matter what I did, Nan was always there. She didn’t get mad if I screwed up or failed a test. She helped me fix the situation. One time, she stayed up all night helping me study for a make-up exam. So why was I afraid to go to her now, when I needed her the most?
Because you don’t want to disappoint her.
We didn’t have much, and what we did have, Nan busted her butt to get. I dreaded telling her when I needed something for school. Mostly because she’d just smile and say, ‘we’ll figure it out.’ And she did. Even if that meant eating instant noodles for a week. That’s why I tried so hard at school. She was so happy when I got the scholarship, her entire face beamed with pride. I just wanted to make her proud. Not make things harder, with another mouth to feed.
I looked up, studying the girl in the mirror. She looked the same. Black hair, pink lips and caramel complexion, but her eyes were different. The hazel color glimmering in the sunlight wasn’t as bright. There was no spark or glint. They simply stared back, dull and empty.
Tears burned in my eyes as I opened the door to our small bathroom and stepped out into the hall. Instead of letting myself be drawn to the kitchen by the mouth-watering aroma, I slipped into my room. Burying my face in my pillow and crying for a few minutes seemed like a better option, then facing Nan.
“Alright, child,” I jumped at the sudden sound of Nan’s voice. She might be on in age, but the woman was sly as a fox. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Nan was sitting on my bed with her hands folded in her lap, and her eyebrow cocked. I knew the look well. It was her,‘keep pushing me kid and you’ll get the wooden spoon’look. She was like a ninja with that thing. Once she hit me from across the room, and I swear the damn spoon ricocheted right back into her palm.
I blinked back the tears in my eyes and forced a smile on my face. “Hi, Nan.”
