Taking Connor(62)

Lexi shakes her head, before looking at me, her expression already soft—apologetic. “Do you think . . .” She can’t even finish her question because I’m already glaring daggers at her for even asking the question.

“Clearly, I do, Lex,” I snap. “I mean, I just anted up twenty-five thousand dollars and risking losing two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars for a man I think is guilty.”

“Okay, okay.” She releases a deep breath. “How are the girls?”

Lexi is hitting all of the really sore subjects this morning and, therefore, receiving the blunt end of my shitty mood. “Good question,” I retort. “I called Wendy last night and twice this morning—no answer.”

I’ve opted to give Wendy a few days, but she will be speaking to me come hell or high water. I want to know what the girls know. I want to know what happened.

“Shit,” Lexi sighs.

We’re out the doors of the courthouse and halfway down the steps when I hear, “Demi!” Turning, I find Roxy in her biker babe gorgeousness, gorgeous blonde hair down her back, long legs only accentuated by three-inch heels and a tight-fitting top.

“Who the fu—” Lexi begins before I interrupt her.

“Roxy,” I say, surprised.

“Did they deny him bail?” she asks, skipping any formal greeting.

“No,” I answer. “He should be out by this afternoon.”

She sighs with relief, her hand moving to her stomach as if it just unfurled itself, and she’s found relief. “Thank goodness. Ever since he called me last night I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

The blood drains from my face. Connor used his one phone call to call Roxy?

To call Roxy.

Not me.

Roxy.

I stare at her blankly, unable to process her words. Why wouldn’t he call me?

There are few times my sister’s big mouth and verbal vomit have ever benefitted me, but when Lexi asks, “Are you guys a couple?” I could kiss her. It’s the million dollar question. Enquiring minds want to know—well my enquiring mind wants to know anyway.

Roxy smirks and looks genuinely shocked. “Oh no, honey.” Then she looks at me and her brows furrow, her expression softening, “You thought Connor and me . . .”

“At one time . . . I assumed,” I choke out, maintaining a calm demeanor. “You stay over a bit . . . I don’t know. It’s not really my business.” Is it? Connor said they were only friends.

Roxy blinks a few times. “Had you never heard of me before we met in your driveway that night?”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “No. Should I have?”

Roxy closes her eyes, and her shoulders fall as she exhales. “Oh, Blake,” she breathes as if he can hear her.

My eyes widen, unsure if the name that just fell from her lips was that of my deceased husbands. Did I hear that right?

“Did you just say, Blake?” Lexi asks, her voice rising an octave.

Roxy opens her eyes and bites her lip, an expression of . . . guilt maybe? “Could we go somewhere else and have a cup of coffee? There are some things you should know. Things about Blake and Connor.”

My stomach is in a million tiny knots, but I nod, and we walk across the street to a small café. Walking between Roxy and Lexi, I realize how terrible I look. They’re in heels and sexy clothes—granted Lexi doesn’t look as fresh as Roxy, but she’s doing better than me. I look like I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days. As we walk, Roxy begins explaining.

“I hate that I’m the one to tell you these things Demi. Blake said he would . . . one day. But I guess he ran out of days.”

Lexi looks at me and opens her mouth, but I shake my head. I don’t want Lexi flipping out on Roxy because then I might never know what Roxy knows. And right now, I desperately need to know what Roxy knows.

“Were you and Blake . . .” I can’t even say it. Lovers? Were they? God, Blake, how could you?

“No, no, no,” Roxy says, adamantly. “Blake loved you. He’d never have cheated on you.”

“Thanks for telling us who Blake is,” Lexi snaps.

“Lex,” I warn.

Roxy, undeterred by Lexi’s attitude continues. “I met Blake in a group for sexual abuse victims.” I don’t even get a chance to absorb her words as we arrive at the café and she opens the door, walking in. Lexi and I stand outside for a moment, speechless. This is a first for her. My sister is rarely at a loss for words. After a moment, I follow Roxy inside, figuring if I want to feel any less confused I better go in and listen to what she has to say. We’re seated, upon Roxy’s request, at a table in the back where it’s more private. We all order coffee and no one speaks a word until our server has delivered our beverages and left.

“In a group for the sexually abused?” I begin, quietly, leaning in. “That makes no sense . . . Blake wasn’t a victim of sexual abuse.”

Roxy’s eyes immediately move down to her mug in front of her. “That you know of,” she says, quietly.

“So you’re telling me that you . . . YOU,” Lexi points in emphasis, “know more about Blake than his wife did?” It’s not hard to hear the anger in Lexi’s voice.

“No,” Roxy says, firmly, looking Lexi square in the eyes. “But I do know this one thing about him that apparently Demi doesn’t.”