On Thin Ice (The Baltimore Banners Book 8) (22 page)

Lauren didn't know what to say, how to react. She couldn't find the right words to express her anger, her sorrow, her own guilt. Didn't even know if the right words existed. She didn't want to see the truth on Dales' face, didn't want to hear the truth in his words. But it was too late because he'd already spoken them and she couldn't get them out of her head. She couldn't pretend that she hadn't heard them, couldn't pretend that this was nothing more than a nightmare.

She dropped her head into her hands and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. If she pushed hard enough, if she refused to think about it, maybe that would make everything go away.

There was a soft knock at the door, immediately followed by the sound of hesitant footsteps and the clatter of silverware against china. Lauren didn't have to open her eyes to know it was Kenny, not when she could sense him—and his hesitation.

"Were you still up to eating?"

Lauren opened her eyes, glanced over at Kenny then looked back at Dale. Had they been shouting? Talking too loud? No, she didn't think so. But maybe Kenny could sense her mood, just like she could sense his presence. One more thing she didn't want to think about, not right now, not when she didn't want to
think
period.

"We'll talk more later." Dale stood up and headed for the door, pausing to look at Kenny. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her."

"I'm not getting in the middle of it." The two of them stared at each other for a few long seconds, like they were sizing each other up, trying to see who would flinch first. Dale finally stormed out of the room, swearing under his breath, loud enough that Lauren could hear him, but no so loud she could make out the words. Kenny frowned after him then stepped into the room, pushing the door closed with his foot. He hesitated, the tray held between his two large hands, then moved over to the bed. Lauren sat up straighter, helped him move the tray onto her lap. A bowl of clear chicken broth and a glass of water sat side-by-side, next to a napkin and spoon. She looked down at it, frowning as her stomach rumbled.

"This is it, huh?"

"For now, yeah."

"Hm." She picked up the spoon, her hand shaking as she scooped up some of the broth and sipped it. Warm, just a little salty…and nowhere near filling enough. She sipped a few more spoonsful then looked over at Kenny. He looked just as tired as Dale, with a darker scruff covering his jaw. Her heart sped up and she quickly looked away, wondering how she could experience so many different emotions in such a short time.

"You can sit down, you know." She patted the space next to her. Kenny hesitated then lowered himself to the bed, turning so he was sitting sideways, watching her. He drew his leg up, his knee brushing against her thigh. He sat that way for a few minutes then leaned back, resting his weight on one elbow as she finished the broth.

"Going down okay?"

"Yeah." She wiped her mouth then balled the napkin and tossed it on the tray. Her stomach wasn't rumbling anymore, but she wasn't exactly full, either. "So when can I get some real food?"

Kenny laughed, the sound soft in the quiet room. "I think tomorrow, as long as you don't overdo it."

"Oh boy, can't wait."

"Just don't expect a four-course meal."

"You mean I shouldn't plan on pizza for breakfast?"

Kenny chuckled and shook his head. "Not for a few days, I don't think."

"Bummer." Lauren tried to smile but felt it fade from her face before it even had a chance to form. Kenny reached out and placed his hand on her leg. Warmth filled her at the touch, comforting, steady. Emotion clogged her throat and burned her eyes and she looked away, not wanting him to see it. She wasn't foolish enough to think he didn't notice, though.

He pushed off the bed and took the tray from her lap, moving to sit on the top of her dresser. He came back to the bed and sat down next to her, stretching his long legs along hers and draping his arm around her shoulder. She didn't hesitate, just rested her head against his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest. The beat of his heart under her palm was steady, strong and reassuring. As reassuring as the gentle touch of his hand caressing her arm. Calm wrapped around her, settling over her like a warm cloak. Soothing. Protecting.

"Close your eyes, get some sleep."

"That's all I've been doing."

"Because your body needs to heal." His voice was thick, a little husky. Lauren moved her head to look up at him but he tightened his arm around her, holding her in place as he pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

She took a shaky breath and snuggled closer. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you will." Kenny gave a short laugh, the sound a little forced. "Stubborn."

"Maybe." Silence stretched around them, comfortable, unhurried. Lauren's eyes grew heavier and she forced them open, not ready to surrender to the darkness again. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there. For being here. For…everything."

"Always, Lauren. Always."

Always
. She thought about lifting her head, thought about telling him how she felt. Looking into his eyes, losing herself in their depths. Not yet. She wasn't ready for that yet, not after everything else that had just happened. So she snuggled closer, feeling the heat of his body wrap around her as she drifted off, wondering if he somehow already knew.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lauren tossed the book to the side, not bothering to catch it when it bounced off the bed and hit the floor with a soft thud. That more than anything else told her she was in a deep funk. Since when did she toss books and not care about it? Never. At least, never until this past week.

Her life should be back to normal by now. A week had gone by, she was feeling better. Things should definitely be back to normal. You wouldn't know it from the way everyone was acting, though.

Dale was still pissed, walking around with a permanent chip on his shoulder and a look that made everyone wonder when he was just going to lose control and beat something. That wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that he stopped by every night unless he was working, filled with doom and gloom and wearing a permanent scowl. Lauren had no idea why he was so pissed. Well, no actually, she did. Mostly. But his anger was too extreme and she wondered if he was dealing with his own sense of guilt, if he blamed himself and wondered if maybe there was something he could have done to help Lindsay before it reached this point.

Not that she could say anything to him. He completely shut down whenever she brought the subject up and refused to talk about it. And he had the nerve to call her stubborn? Yeah, right.

Rick flat out refused to let her come to work—under threat of bodily harm. He had actually told her he would toss her over his shoulder and carry her home, then promptly tie her to the bed to make sure she stayed there if she even so much as thought of coming to work. Apparently that included doing any work from home, because he'd gone so far as to change the network password so she couldn't access anything remotely. As far as she was concerned, he could go sulk in a dark corner somewhere with Dale. They were both overreacting because she was feeling fine. In fact, she was in greater danger of wasting away from boredom than anything else. Didn't they know she needed to be doing something? Anything, except sitting here at home.

Sitting home gave her too much time to think and that was the last thing she needed to be doing.

And she didn't need to be coddled like a helpless child, either, with everyone tiptoeing around her, like she was so fragile she might break. That wasn't her. That had never been her. And it was driving her insane that those closest to her were suddenly treating her like she was made of delicate china. In fact, the only person who hadn't treated her like that had been Kelly, and she and Sara had gone back home four days ago.

Even Kenny was treating her differently. Yes, he was attentive. Concerned. He was with her almost every day if he wasn't practicing or playing. They snuggled and kissed—God, the man could kiss—but that was it.

And okay, maybe the fact that they did nothing more than kiss might have something to do with her parents staying here. She understood that. Though why here parents were staying here, camped out in her spare bedroom instead of their own house, she had no idea. Her dad had grumbled when she asked him that exact thing, mumbling something about it being too much of a pain to shuffle everything back and forth from the RV, especially since they weren't going to be here that long, anyway. He'd been glaring at Kenny when he said it so she wasn't exactly buying it. Not that it mattered now, anyway, since the Banners were on the road for the next three nights.

All of that was more than enough to irritate her—to more than irritate her, if she was going to be honest with herself. But what pissed her off more than anything else was the fact that nobody—not one single person—would talk about what happened. Sure, they'd talk about her being sick, talk about how she needed to recover from the 'incident'. Lauren laughed, the sound short. Incident. Yeah, okay.

But not one of them would talk about Lindsay. They wouldn't even say her name, like somehow she had suddenly ceased to exist. Well, she did exist. She was sitting in a cell somewhere, with God only knew what kind of thugs and criminals, awaiting trial because the judge had denied her bail. And nobody, not one single person, had gone to see her. To see how she was doing.

Dale had gone to the hearing, she knew that much—but only because she had threatened him with severe bodily harm if he didn't tell her what had happened. Even then he almost refused, giving in only when Kenny heatedly suggested that maybe it would help Lauren's peace of mind if she knew.

She should have hit both of them right then and there. Her peace of mind? Like she was in danger of falling apart or something. Yes, she'd been upset. She still was. Upset. Hurt. Angry. Confused. Lauren wasn't sure what emotions were included in the seven stages of grief but she was pretty sure she'd run through all of them in the last week. Twice.

What she really wanted to know was why. What had possessed Lindsay to do something so insanely stupid? She wasn't like everyone else, she didn't think Lindsay had actually wanted to kill her. She'd done some research online—when nobody was looking—and learned that putting eye drops in someone's drink was often thought of as nothing more than a trick. A prank. Something that would result in an explosive case of diarrhea for the victim but that was it. Too bad that wasn't the case. Reading what could have happened almost made Lauren sick to her stomach. People had actually died from being poisoned. So yeah, Lauren was very much aware that she was lucky.

And she was very much aware that Lindsay no doubt thought it was nothing more than a prank. She still wanted to know why. Was it nothing more than an infantile stunt meant as payback? Knowing Lindsay, probably.

And despite what everyone thought, Lauren wasn't excusing her sister. Yes, she'd been upset and in denial when she first learned what happened. Had been horrified when Dale told her their sister had been arrested. That didn't mean she wanted her sister to get a free pass. Maybe this was what Lindsay needed to wake her up, to show her that choices had consequences and that she was responsible for those consequences.

That didn't mean she wanted Lindsay's life to be ruined, though. Not that Lauren could do anything about it, one way or the other. But she'd feel better if she could just see Lindsay. Talk to her. Ask her why.

"I know that look."

Lauren glanced up, surprised to see her mom standing just inside the door, holding a tray of food. She hadn't even heard her come in. "Just thinking."

"More than thinking. I'm your mother, remember?" She moved closer to the bed, ignoring Lauren's frown when she saw the bland food on the tray. "Don't roll your eyes, just eat."

So maybe she had seen Lauren's frown. "Mom. I can make my own food. I'm not helpless."

Her mom smiled, the action accenting the laugh lines that were starting to show around her eyes. She was in her late fifties but didn't look it, not even close. Her hair was cut in a layered bob that framed her high cheekbones—the same cheekbones that Lauren saw whenever she looked in the mirror. Her hair was a dark auburn, shot through with blonde highlights. To hide the gray, her mom had said when she first had it done. The style and color looked good on her, bringing out the color of her eyes. Lauren may have inherited her mother's build and facial structure, but Lindsay was the one who had inherited her eyes: bright blue, expressive. Not like the chocolate brown of their dad's eyes.

"I know, but maybe I still need to baby you some."

Lauren laughed then snagged a piece of toast from the tray. "Since when have you ever babied us?"

"Not since you were two. You and your brother both. Independent, stubborn, hardheaded. Just like your father." Her mom smiled then sat on the edge of the bed, her smile fading as a look of sadness crossed her face. "Your sister was the one who wanted to be babied. Maybe…maybe if I hadn't babied her so much, if I had let go—"

"Mom, don't." Lauren reached over and closed her hand around her mom's shoulder, surprised at how fragile she suddenly seemed. She swallowed around the thickness in her throat and sat back. "This isn't your fault. Or Dad's. Or mine. It's nobody fault but Lindsay's."

"That doesn't mean I don't wonder, don't worry—"

"I know. I wonder the same thing. I mean…God, mom. She was living here for seven months. What if I hadn't kicked her out? Would things be different? Would she have done something so stupid if I had just let her stay here? I don't know. None of us do. But that doesn't make it my fault, anymore that it makes it yours." A burst of anger filled her, quickly followed by guilt and sadness. Lauren acknowledged it then quickly pushed it away. She'd already rehashed everything in her mind, at least a hundred times. She wasn't going to fall back into that trap again.

"I just don't understand why she did it. I keep asking myself—"

"I know, so do I. And I'm going to ask her."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Mom, I need to. I know everyone would much rather just ignore it and not even mention her name or talk about what happened, but I can't do that. I need to know why."

"I don't think you should make any hasty decisions."

"It's not hasty, Mom. It's all I've been doing, sitting here thinking because everyone's convinced I'm on my last legs or something. I'm not. And I'm tired of sitting here, doing nothing." Lauren picked the toast back up and took a small bite, grimacing at the dryness. She looked down at it then back at her mom. "And I'm tired of eating plain toast and drinking tea. I want pizza. And a beer."

"Young lady, do you have any idea how sick you were?"

"Yeah Mom, I do." Lauren crawled to the end of the bed then jumped out, stepping around her mom to reach her dresser.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a shower and getting dressed in something besides sweatpants. And then I'm going out for lunch. And then I think I'll get a pedicure." She grabbed some clothes from the drawer and held them in front of her, glancing over her shoulder at her mom. "Want to join me?"

"Your father is going to be furious."

"He'll get over it. He always does."

Her mom sat there, indecision on her face as they watched each other. Then her face smoothed out and her eyes brightened as she smiled. "It has been awhile since I've had a pedicure."

"Good. It's a plan then."

"What did you want me to do with this stuff?" Her mom pointed to the tray of food.

"Well, you can have it if you want."

A grimace crossed her face and she shuddered, shaking her head. "No thank you."

"Yeah, didn't think so." Lauren laughed and headed to the bathroom, almost giddy. "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready to go."