“Sure. But it’ll cost you. Why don’t we make it an even two thousand?”
And there it was. The reason for her mother’s return appearance after all these years. She should have fucking known. “Let me guess. Barry finally discovered your true nature and is done funding your alcohol and drugs.” It would explain why she hadn’t seen Jolene at Tatum’s, strutting around like she owned the place. More than likely, Barry hadn’t only kicked her out of his life, but also his family’s business.
Jolene’s garishly painted lips gave an ugly twist, revealing the smear of crimson gloss on her upper teeth. “Don’t talk to me like that, you sanctimonious little bitch. You owe me that money after everything I’ve done for you.”
“And that would be what? Passing out drunk every night? Slipping me roofies when I was a kid so that I’d sleep while you snuck out and met your dealer? Of course, that was before you started completely not giving a damn whether I wandered outside and got hit by a car. But most of all, maybe I should be grateful that you ever showed me a second’s attention?” Her limbs shook from the tempest of repressed emotions that strained to escape their bonds.
A dry, rattling laugh broke from her mother. “Oh my God. You’ve still got a bug up your ass about seeing me with Barry’s kids that day in the park. How fucking pathetic are you? I don’t give two shits about those whiny brats. I only spent time with them to get in good with Barry. Why can’t you fucking realize that?”
She had seen it. But the damning part was she’d still been devastated, still let her mother’s betrayal force her down the path that’d ultimately led to her own despicable act of duplicity, even though she hadn’t intentionally meant it that way.
Do what you will, so long as it harms none. She’d broken the biggest commandment of them all. The pain in her heart was almost unbearable. “Get off my property and never return.”
Jolene’s eyes hardened. “You’re dead to me.”
“Same goes here.”
Huffing beneath her breath, Jolene whirled and stalked down the porch steps before jumping in her rust bucket of a car and peeling out of the drive in a spray of gravel. Clarissa waited until the vehicle completely disappeared from sight before turning. Her gaze collided with the two figures standing on the other side of the screen door. Constance and Logan. Both were looking at her with a mix of horror and sympathy. She could take a lot of things. But not their pity.
Her throat constricting, she pivoted and stumbled down the steps.
Logan watched the beautiful, strong woman he loved breaking down in front of him. His chest seized, aching for her and everything he now knew. Jesus. No wonder her heart was a fortress. He brushed past Constance and swung the screen open. It banged shut behind him as he followed after Clarissa. She rushed around the side of the coven house, but he quickly closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. She struggled briefly before slumping against him with a muffled sob. “I—I didn’t want anyone to kn-know.”
“It’s okay, baby.” He hugged her tight, his eyes closing as he buried his cheek in her hair. Whispering nonsensical words that nonetheless seemed to soothe her, he stroked her back. They stood there for what might have been an eternity, just holding each other. Finally she lifted her head and he kissed her. There was no heat in it, just an offering of comfort. He squeezed her limp hands. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But there’s a million things—”
“That can be done by someone else,” he interjected. “Why don’t you go wait by my bike while I go have a talk with your sisters?”
At first he thought she was on the verge of balking, but after a long hesitation, she nodded. Giving her knuckles one last caress with his thumbs, he released her and went in search of the others. After explaining that Clarissa would be unavailable for the remainder of the day, he hurried outside, relief flooding him when he saw that she was patiently leaning on the seat of the Harley. He’d been partly convinced that she would take the opportunity to run and hide the second his back was turned. She looked at him in surprise when he fetched the new helmet and sunglasses he’d bought for her from the saddlebag. He handed her the glasses and settled the helmet on her head, securing the strap beneath her chin. “I figured it made sense gettin’ you one, since you’ll be loggin’ plenty of road time with me.”
He’d expected her to rise to the challenge in his pronouncement, not look like she was on the brink of bursting into tears again. He stared at the custom-made pentacle on the helmet, wondering if she didn’t like it. “Hey, don’t sweat it. If you don’t care for the design on this one, we’ll get you another.”
“No, I love it. Thank you.”
In his pitiable, sappy state, her declaration would have no less meaning than if she’d said she loved him. His face almost hurting from the wide stretch of his smile, he donned his own helmet and shades before climbing onto the bike. The machine dipped as Clarissa straddled the seat. Rather than gripping the rear sissy bar as she’d always done in the past, she snuggled into him and banded her arms around his waist. In that moment, everything felt right in the world.
Gunning the engine, he cruised down the drive. Once they reached pavement, he gave the bike more throttle and soon the engine was roaring, the countryside whipping by. At first he didn’t quite have a destination in mind, his only real aim centered on getting Clarissa’s mind off her mother’s visit. But then he remembered the carnival he’d spotted on the outskirts of town. Crazy as it was, the idea of giving her a taste of the childhood she’d obviously been deprived of sounded like the best plan he’d ever had. He nosed the bike in the right direction, and twenty-five minutes later rumbled onto the grassy field being used for parking. Once Clarissa dismounted, he followed suit and met her confused gaze as she tugged her sunglasses free.
“This is a carnival.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for clearing that up for me.”
Her eyebrows scrunched in an adorable way. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re gonna do what most folks do at a carnival. Eat too much junk food. Shoot at bobbing ducks so we can possibly win a giant stuffed animal. Ride some coasters that’ll make you scream and clutch me.” He was particularly looking forward to that part.
“We’re going to shoot at ducks?” She looked worried.
“Plastic ones.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, you’re gonna love it.” Winking, he twined his fingers through hers and led her to the admission gate. After paying the fee, he slung his arm around her waist, drawing her close. “So what do you want to check out first?”
“I—I don’t know.”
She looked so lost and mystified, like she’d just landed on a strange, foreign planet, that he couldn’t resist kissing her forehead. “Okay, I’ll make a suggestion then. I’m starved and those corn dogs are smellin’ mighty tasty.”
She licked her lips. “That does sound good.”
“Then let’s go nab ’em. We can munch and stroll.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Is that a technical term?”
“Yep. You see, I’m a true carnival connoisseur.”
They found the corn-dog vendor and bought two of the fattening but mightily delicious treats. After slathering his in a river of mustard, he took Clarissa on a tour, giving her the skinny on all the attractions. She gazed wistfully at the mock shooting gallery, where various prizes were strung up on enticing display.
“You’re a crack shot, shug. You should go for it.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I do think Izzy would like that big pink gopher.”