Page 83 of Beautiful Rush
“Promise?”
“Have a good trip to Virginia,” Eden said, pulling Keira into a hug.
“Call if you need anything,” Connor said.
After hugs were exchanged and the others left, I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers. “Hand over your keys, Buttercup.”
“Nobody drives my Charger but me.”
“How many speeding tickets do you have?”
She narrowed her eyes and I gave her a smack on the ass. “Get your sweet ass in the passenger seat. I’ll show you some tactical driving skills and maneuvers.”
“Ooh, sexy. I’m looking forward to that lesson.” She patted my pockets to make sure the stone was in my jeans pocket before handing over her keys. She was still superstitious. Still believed that the stone had protected me, although she’d never admit that. But Keira was back, her sass restored.
“Are we really doing this tomorrow?” she asked on the drive home.
“We’re really doing this. Did you doubt it?”
“No. You’re not a dweller.” She sounded annoyed about that.
“No sense in hanging onto the past. We just have to deal with it head-on, make our peace with it, and move on.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
She laughed. “Yeah, okay. It’s not complicated that you were shot by a man who used to work for my father. Or that you found out that Ivan Petrov was your father and Sasha, my best friend and first boyfriend was your brother. Because that’s not crazy.”
It was crazy. Fucked-up. Weird. A coincidence beyond my wildest imagination. But that was life. You couldn’t make this shit up. I had no real interest in Ivan Petrov, but I would have liked the chance to know Sasha, so it was strange, but somehow fitting that Keira was our common link.
We had a ten-hour drive ahead of us tomorrow. Plenty of time to talk and work through things before she faced her father. We still had unfinished business. Might as well get it all out there. “On the drive down, you can tell me all about Sasha.”
26
Keira
It was day three of staring at the prison walls from the parking lot. We’d been sitting in Deacon’s SUV for twenty minutes. I had already eaten a cinnamon Pop-Tart and finished my coffee. Which was usually my cue to tell Deacon I was ready to leave. Then we’d drive around for a few hours. Talk. Eat. Watch movies in the motel room. Have sex. Sleep and wake up early to head over to the Visitors Parking lot and do it all over again.
I sat up straighter as a woman crossed the parking lot, her black wool coat belted, showing off her trim figure. Her dark hair was glossy and styled to perfection and although I couldn’t see her face clearly from here, I would be willing to bet that her makeup was perfect. Not a single crack in her façade. Mask firmly in place. My mother was beautiful. Not even the circumstances could change that.
Deacon was watching her through the window, and although he had never met her, he must have known who she was because he got out of the driver seat and rounded the front of his SUV and opened my door for me.
“Today’s the day,” I said.
He smiled and I took the hand he held out to me. I had already decided that this was something I needed to do alone, and I knew that Deacon would understand I wasn’t trying to cut him out.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I nodded. “I need to do this.”
“Okay.” He gave my hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
“I’m counting on it.”
With that, I jogged after my mother who was nearly at the door of the visitors waiting room. “Mom,” I called. Her footsteps didn’t even slow and she didn’t turn around or look over her shoulder, so I called her by her first name. That made her stop and turn around. How sad that she didn’t respond to ‘Mom.’
“Keira.” She looked me up and down. I was wearing the black Moncler parka open over an oversized sweatshirt I’d stolen from Deacon, skinny jeans and biker boots. No makeup, just lip balm. My hair a wild mess of waves that nearly reached my waist now. When I lived in Miami, I used to get it styled at an expensive salon and use overpriced products, straighteners and a blow-dryer to coax it into submission. Now I was lucky if I ran a brush through it.
