LaClaire Kiss (After Hours Book 3) Read online

  Since painting Audrey, I’ve done several more paintings, but none of them have my soul in them, not like the one hanging behind Audrey Dupuis as she says her last words to me.

  How could the woman on the screen be so different from the girl I once knew, the girl I thought was the one? It was hard to imagine her ever being unhappy.

  I glance at Alice, and she shrugs and hangs her head.

  Swiping a hand across one side of my face, I push the button.

  Audrey’s voice, the one thing that hasn’t changed, pours into the room, bringing back bittersweet memories.

  “Lance, it must be a shock to see me after all these years. I have a lot to apologize for. Sorry it took me so long to get to this point. I’m going to be honest with you. I think I owe you that much.” She laughs and my gut twists at her words.

  It’s hard to reconcile the girl I used to know with this woman, this stranger. Even the clothes she’s wearing are unlike her. She was the kind of girl who went for bright colors and they suited her. Now she’s wearing a gray pullover. From the way it hangs from her body, it looks as though it belongs to someone else. I used to love her curves, running my hands over her firm ass and round, full breasts.

  “Lance, I know what happened to you twelve years ago. Your brother called me when you were in the hospital. I’m ashamed to say the thought of you two fighting over me had turned me on at the time. I’m sorry I turned my back on you when you needed me most. I was young and selfish and only interested in having fun.” She lifts her hands from the table and drops them again. “As you can probably tell, life has certainly punished me since I last saw you. It sure gave me a taste of my own medicine. I have to say, I’m having a hard time swallowing the bitter pill.” She lets out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have treated you and your brother so callously. I shouldn’t have played with your hearts as though they were nothing. Now I know how heartbreak feels because,” she chews the corner of her lips and blinks away tears, “someone shattered mine.”

  My breath is hot inside my chest as I hold it, burning me from the inside.

  “Lance, over the years I’ve followed your life in the press. I know this will probably mean nothing to you now, but I’m sorry that I took so much away from you, from your life. For that I’ll never forgive myself. Sometimes I think my bad luck is payback for the choices I made concerning you. I didn’t feel for you what you felt for me, and I should have been honest and ended it before it went too far, before I broke your heart ... And your brother’s. Before I broke your body.”

  I pause the video again, close my eyes, and exhale, inhaling again immediately.

  “Are you okay?” Alice asks for the second time since she’s been in my room. I don’t know why she needs to ask. She can clearly see the answer on my face.

  “I’m fine.” Bracing myself for more heartache, I point the remote to the TV.

  “If you’re listening to this, my life is over. I’m recording this video for you because I’m trying to make things right, to ask the people I hurt for forgiveness. In a few minutes, I’ll be no more and the world will be a better place without me in it. But unlike me, you have so much to live for. You deserve so much more than you’re accepting from life. You’re a better person than I ever could be. From what I’ve seen reported about you, you’re afraid of living.” She swipes a hand across her cheek. “You were a wonderful boy twelve years ago, and I have no doubt you’re a wonderful man now. Don’t let a wheelchair stand in the way of you. I wish I could make your legs work again. God, how I wish I could do that. But I can’t. The only thing I can do is beg you to start living again. You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to the world. I may not have loved you the way you deserved to be loved, but we had lots of fun.” A small smile touches her lips. “I’m sorry our time together left such a dark mark on your life. Don’t let someone like me stop you from becoming the person you’re destined to be. There are so many people out there in your condition who still live full and fulfilled lives. My wish for you is that you become one of them. Take it one step at a time. Live a little, love a little, breathe a little, and before you know it, you’ll be flying. Become unstoppable. For now, it’s Au Revoir, Lance LaClaire. I wish you nothing but the best. I don’t mean for this message to bring you pain. For the first time in my life, I hope I’m doing something right. Please accept this message for what it is, a long overdue apology.”

  My finger hits the button to switch off the TV, and I fling the remote onto the bed. It misses it and hits the floor instead. The batteries spill out. One rolls away to hide under the bed. I swivel my chair to face Alice but don’t meet her gaze. My throat is aching as I swallow.

  “I appreciate you coming all this way, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”

  “But …” She sighs and her shoulders sink. “Okay, I understand.” She pushes out of her chair, takes a step toward the door, then turns. “I’m staying at your family’s home …”

  My eyes narrow at the same time my chest stutters. “You’re what?” She must be kidding.

  “I... Before coming here, I contacted your brother, Bryant, to ask how I could get ahold of you. He invited me to come to Mexico.” She shakes her head, her curls swinging gently from side to side. “I don’t want to intrude into your lives more than I already have. My sister brought you a lot of pain, and I’d understand if you’d prefer me to move into a hotel. That was my initial plan. It was Bryant who insisted I stay in your home.”

  I let out a long, exhausted breath. “No. No, it’s fine. I’m not there for at least another week or two anyway. Be my guest.”

  What good would telling her to move out do me? When it all comes down to it, she’s not the one who caused me pain. She did nothing wrong. But seeing her does remind me of her sister. But as long as I’m not home, I don’t see a problem with her being there.

  “I appreciate your kindness. I’ll be in town for two weeks. Do let me know if you want to talk some more ... if you have any questions.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.” She turns to face me fully.

  “Do you also think I’m afraid of living?”

  Her gaze slides from mine. “I can’t answer that question.”

  “Just tell me the truth, please.”

  “Then, yes.” She sighs. “I’m sorry.” With that, she walks out the door.

  5

  Lance

  As I watch her leave, my body feels like lead, heavier than usual, pressing me deeper into the wheelchair. The heat of my rage explodes underneath my skin, setting the air in the room on fire, sending my temperature skyrocketing. My heart slams painfully against my ribs as I wheel myself into the bathroom, halting at the wheelchair accessible tempered glass sink.

  The moment I slide my hands under the faucet, the sensor takes over and sends water rushing onto my hands, spilling over my palms.

  Momentary relief brought on by the coolness of the water rushes through me. Seconds tick by as I watch the water filling the round bowl and disappearing into the drain. I see it and I don’t see it at the same time.

  My breath is trapped inside my lungs since I refuse to breathe out. When I finally do, I push the plug in and allow the water to fill the bowl. Then I submerge my hands under the clear liquid and splash my face to cool it down.

  Water spills down my chest and onto my thighs. I don’t bother wiping it away. What’s the point? In fact, what’s the bloody point of anything?

  I leave the bathroom feeling the same way I’d entered it and position myself at one of the windows, staring out at the raging sea.

  My attempt at willing myself to be soothed by the motion of the waves rolling in and out and the sounds of the sea gulls fails. If anything, my mood plummets with each breath, pulling me under a blanket of despair. The heat of my rage resurfaces, the fire under my skin drying up the water.

  When I turn back to face the room, my eyes land on the remote still on the floor where it had fallen earlier. My body loc
ks with the rage as I wheel myself to the table and grab the hard, plastic DVD case. I send it flying across the room toward the TV screen.

  I want to erase her words from my mind, to pretend I never saw the video in the first place, to pretend she never came back into my life.

  She’s dead and yet she’s here, present in my soul, in every fiber of me. My intense reaction to her words flows like poison in my veins.

  How dare she tell me I’m afraid of living? What the fuck would she know about spending twelve years in a fuckin’ chair? She had no right to barge back into my life, even from beyond the grave. She had no right to tell me what to do. Her apology meant jack to me.

  She was sorry? Her actions led to my paralysis, and all she can say is ‘sorry’? Her apology arrived a little too late and now only serves to infuriate me. And she’s not the only person I’m pissed at.

  Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I call Bryant to give him a piece of my mind. He picks up on the first ring, grabbing the chance to speak to me since I screen most of his calls.

  “You had no right to invite her to Mexico. You—of all people—should have understood what that would do to me.” With each word, my body shakes. “You had no right to meddle in my business.”

  “Someone had to.” Silence fills the line, and I think he’s not going to continue, but he does. “You’re my twin brother, for God’s sake. In case you aren’t aware, when you hurt, I hurt.”

  “Don’t tell me about hurting.” My hand grips the phone tighter.“You can’t even start to imagine how it feels to walk a mile in my shoes.”

  “We are connected more than you can ever imagine.” He inhales sharply. “Your pain is my pain, bro, whether you want to admit it or not. I’m as chained to that wheelchair as you are.” Another sharp intake of breath. “But what hurts the most is this distance you have put between us, being unable to reach you, to save you, to pull you out of that dark hole you’re buried in.”

  “And then you came up with this brilliant idea of sending Audrey’s sister to me? You really think a stranger is going to save me?” Laughter explodes from my throat, tears springing into my eyes.

  “I hoped. Everything else we tried failed, after all.” He sighs. “But you’re right, I should have told you about her. I shouldn’t have sprung her on you without warning. I guess I was afraid you’d react the way you are right now. You wouldn’t have let her into your life.”

  “Damn right, I wouldn’t have.” I grit my teeth. “And that would’ve been my decision, not yours.”

  “The girl had been trying to reach me for weeks and I blew her off. She left messages, and I ignored them because that’s what I thought you would want.” Silence fills the distance between us again. “But seeing you getting your stomach pumped was the last straw. I couldn’t stand by and watch you destroy your life. Something had to change. You know it. I know it.”

  “Well, it didn’t work. No one can fix me. Not her, not you, not this damn place.” I rub my temples. “Look, I’m exhausted. It’s been one hell of a morning, as you can imagine. Goodbye, Bryant.”

  He tries to say something, but I hang up. There’s nothing more for us to talk about—not today.

  Instead of letting myself down for a rest as had been my intention, I give Doc a call. Darius is more than my shrink. He’s been my shrink for years until the lines between patient and doctor blurred and a kind of friendship developed. When he found out about my attempted suicide, he flew to Mexico. He’s staying at one of the LaClaire beachfront cottages that we normally rent out to tourists, and I’d arranged for him to get an office at Crystal Lake to oversee my mental state.

  Doc is the one person who seems to get me, who respects my wishes. Until today, when he dropped the ball.

  Over the phone, I ask to see him. He walks into my room exactly five minutes later. I get straight to the point.

  “You shouldn’t have let her get as far as my door. I thought I made it clear I didn’t want any visitors.”

  “I apologize, if my decision was made in error.” Doc picks the remote from the floor and locates both batteries, slips them back inside. “She claimed to be a family friend. Your brother confirmed it.” He pauses. “To be honest, I thought it might help to talk to her, since she’s related to the woman that broke your heart.”

  “I don’t give a damn who she’s related to.” I can feel a headache approaching, so I dig my fingertips into my temples, attempting to massage away the pain. It refuses to budge. “And that doesn’t change the fact that I should have been notified before she showed up. You should have come to see me first, without her by your side.”

  “You’re right.” Doc places the remote control on the windowsill, then turns back to me. “I should have notified you.”

  “You should have.”

  Doc sinks into the armchair. “Her visit didn’t help at all? May I ask what she wanted to see you about?”

  I turn away from him, wheel myself to the table, pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher. As the water hits my tongue, I wish it were something else, something stronger, something that could numb my nerves. In spite of what everyone thinks, I’ve never considered myself to be an alcoholic. Sometimes I had a little too much to drink, I admit, but who doesn’t? I never drank to get drunk. People drink all the time. Just because they don’t get drunk doesn’t mean they’re not alcoholics. I see no reason not to enjoy something a little stronger now and then. No wonder my withdrawal symptoms didn’t last that long.

  “If you don’t feel ready to talk about it, I fully understand.”

  Turning to face him, I consider not telling him about the video, but Doc kind of has a way of reading my mind. It’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out. I might as well tell him. I point to the TV. “Audrey Dupuis is dead. She died two years ago, apparently.”

  “Well, I didn’t see that coming.” A line forms between Doc’s eyebrows. “How did she die?”

  “She committed suicide.”

  Neither of us speaks for a while, and when Doc does, his voice is low. “How do you feel about that?”

  “How should I feel? She hasn’t been a part of my life for twelve years.”

  “We both know that’s not entirely true.”

  “Whatever the case, she was a part of my past. I never expected her to come back into my life in any shape or form.”

  “Her death didn’t upset you in any way?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not get into that.” I point to the TV. “She left a message. It’s what her sister came here to deliver.” My shoulders rise and then fall. “Go ahead, watch it, if you like.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  I shake my head, and with my permission, Doc flicks on the TV.

  Unable to withstand the torture of watching the video for a second time, I wheel myself into the bathroom and remain there, my head pressed against the washbasin. I may not be able to see her face, but her words reach me, seeping through the cracks in the door. Images of her fill my mind, the girl I used to know, beautiful, carefree, happy. Then those pictures are replaced by those of the damaged woman I saw on the TV screen. Without warning, heat spreads through my eyes. My head jerks back, my hands on my cheeks.

  What the fuck? Crying was not part of the plan.

  I don’t know how long I stay in the bathroom, staring into space, tears dripping down my cheeks. It’s only when I hear Doc’s voice behind me that I return to the present. My eyes meet his through the mirror.

  “I know you might not want to hear this,” he says. “But I think you’ve had a major breakthrough today.”

  I wheel myself around, fire and ice in my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “For as long as I’ve known you, Lance LaClaire, I’ve never seen you cry. Not even when your parents died in that plane crash.” He leans against the doorframe. “Sometimes a good cry can do wonders for the soul. Don’t try to fight it.” He pauses. “That message that she left you was powerful.
”

  “Are you saying you agree with what she said? That I’m afraid of living?”

  “Are you … afraid?”

  “You know, Doc, sometimes I forget you’re a shrink, until you start asking too many questions.” Being afraid to live has nothing to do with the way I live my life, with whether I want to call it quits sometimes. Being tired of living and being afraid are two entirely different things.

  As usual, I spend most of my day inside my room, leaving only to have lunch in the restaurant, reluctantly attend group therapy, and a brief session with Doc. I request Cabana Boy to bring my dinner to my room. I’ve seen enough people for one day.

  With my dinner, as usual, Cabana Boy also brings with him a Crystal Lake activity form, with a list of activities offered, in addition to regular treatments and therapies.

  Horse riding, swimming, golfing, bowling, and several other sports and activities fill the page. The idea is that I pick activities for the following day and Cabana Boy will take the form to the organizers.

  For as long as I’ve been at Crystal Lake, I’ve never participated in any activities that are not mandatory to my treatment. Doc constantly urges me to fill out the form, to have a little fun. Every time, I make him aware that I’m not at Crystal Lake for fun. But tonight, with Audrey’s words haunting me, telling me I’m afraid of living, I fill out the form. I don’t give it to Cabana Boy when he comes for my plates, but I slip it under my pillow.

  6

  Alice

  My body feels numb as I walk off the Crystal Lake grounds. The guard at the gate, once an enemy, has transformed into a friend, and he’s waving at me, matchstick still in the corner of his mouth.

  I think I should be kind and wave back, but my hands remain hanging at my side. My head dips to my chest as I walk through the yawning gates. I don’t feel the ground beneath me, as if I’m walking on air. Lifting my head again, I stare ahead but see nothing but a blur. My heart is a clenched fist inside my chest.