Page 6 of His Secret Betrayal (Cedarwood Valley Duology #2)

Luke

“ A re you going to be okay by yourself today?” I ask Evelyn.

She rolls her eyes, exhaling a mouthful of cigarette smoke before answering me. “I’m not a fucking child.”

I heave an involuntary sigh, wishing I didn’t have to deal with this on the morning of my first day at my new job.

Just as I predicted, she had signed herself out of the hospital and left against medical advice when the on-call nurse told her she couldn’t smoke.

And here she sits at the kitchen counter days later, chain smoking while she drinks her morning coffee.

“I’m just worried about you, and I wish you weren’t alone here all day.” My lips dip into a frown as I fill a travel mug full of orange juice. Unlike basically everybody I know, I hate coffee. How people get addicted to drinking dirt water every morning is beyond me.

I only drink coffee when I’m hungover.

“Jesus, Luke, I’m not going to be alone. Kevin is coming over today, okay?”

Ignoring her exasperation, I spin around and narrow my eyes.

“Kevin?” He’s the latest boyfriend in a constant string of them.

Since she’s started to see him, her drug problem has only gotten worse, thanks to his influence.

He’s a drug addict with a temper, which is not exactly my favorite combination.

“We’re just going to have a few joints. It’ll take the edge off of my cravings.”

“Are you sure that’s—”

Her nostrils flare as she slams a palm down on the table. “I’m fucking trying here, Luke! But it’s not goddamned easy, okay?”

I flinch at the vehemence in her tone and take a subconscious step back.

My stomach knots with tightness, and not the pleasant kind.

That sticky feeling of guilt settles deep within me, and I nod.

I read online once that drug addiction is a disease, and Evelyn will need a lot of support to overcome it.

“Now that I’m making more money, I can start saving for rehab,” I offer tentatively, trying to keep my voice quiet and casual.

“Speaking of money, can you spot me twenty bucks?”

Her simple request is enough to send my heart rate climbing, a yawning, churning pit opening in my stomach. The last time she overdosed, I had unwittingly been the cause of it when I gave her sixty bucks and she blew it on pills.

Noticing my hesitance, she softens her voice.

“Son, please. I just need a few bucks so Kevin can buy us some smokes. It’ll take the edge off my cravings.

Maybe I can stay off the pills longer this time…

The longer I stay sober, the sooner I can get my shit straight.

” When I remain stoic and silent, she carefully tacks on, “And the sooner we can tell Jax.”

My resolve crumbles, and I reluctantly fish my wallet out of my black skinny jeans and hand her a twenty-dollar bill.

Maybe she’s right, and it will help distract her from the constant craving for more pills.

How would I know? Honestly, if I didn’t have to work, I wouldn’t mind lighting up with her.

Her eyes brighten, an excited smile spreading across her face as she snatches the bill from my fingers.

Without a backward glance, she rushes toward her phone, presumably to call her boyfriend.

I stare at the now vacant kitchen, wondering not for the first time if she even has an interest in getting sober.

Maybe she likes this lifestyle, or maybe she’s simply using me.

But no…pill addiction is a disease. She can beat this with the right support.

I just have to get her the help she needs.

If I work harder, try harder, maybe I can be enough.

I’ll have to keep reminding myself of that.

I didn’t have a mother growing up. It was just me, my dad, and Jax.

Evelyn said she couldn’t stand to stick around knowing what a failure she was.

She chose to leave because she thought it best for everyone.

For whatever reason, Dad told us she died during childbirth.

Even as the years passed, he stuck to that lie, and we never thought to question him.

I was eleven when he had a massive heart attack during his shift at the fire department, his fellow firefighters unable to revive him when he went into cardiac arrest. Ever since then, it’s been me and Jax against the world. He practically raised me.

When I first found out she was alive, our paths crossing a few towns over by mere coincidence, I was livid with her for choosing to leave me motherless and enraged with Dad for taking that secret to his grave.

But after calming down, I realized this might be my only chance to know what it’s like to have a real mother.

If I don’t fail her.

Pushing away the niggling worries at the back of my mind, I exit the crummy apartment I’ve moved us into and get behind the wheel of my Honda Civic.

It’s a bit of a clunker, some of the silver paint scratched and a rip on the driver’s seat, but it’s paid off and all mine.

Blasting the heat as I fly down the road, the warmth helps ease some of the slight tremors after walking through the cold morning air.

Technically speaking, Evelyn and I live on the outskirts of Cedarwood Valley.

We do most of our shopping and errands in Crestwood Heights so Evelyn can avoid any…

familiar faces. Cedarwood Book Design is right in the center of town, and I honestly much prefer being in Cedarwood Valley over Crestwood Heights any day.

Sure, gossip spreads like wildfire, but it has a quaint, friendly vibe.

I don’t have to worry about locking my car or being mugged.

Chatty Cathy I can deal with.

Slowing down as I enter the main part of town, I pass a local coffee shop, a small grocery store, and a bookstore before the sign for Cedarwood Book Design comes into view.

The name makes me snort again. He really couldn’t have come up with a better name?

As far as the building goes, it’s pretty nondescript.

A simple brick office with rows of windows and a green awning over the front.

My phone buzzes as I’m exiting the car.

Caleb: Break a leg today dude!

Luke: Thanks. Kinda nervous. Your dad seems really… serious.

Caleb: Sometimes he can come off as a hard ass, but he’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him. Don’t worry, you’ll do great! Just don’t be late. It’s like a major pet peeve of his ;)

Luke: Shit, I better get going. Talk later!

I feel stiff all over as I reach the front door, my stomach jittery.

Pausing to study my reflection in the glass, I double check that I look presentable.

Alek said the dress code is casual, and based on what I’ve seen other employees wearing, I think I’ll fit in okay.

But it doesn’t stop me from running a hand over my hair, tied into a tight bun today.

I’m wearing the nicest pair of black skinny jeans I own, paired with a dark gray shirt.

Thrown over that, I have a red and black plaid jacket.

Only one of my black painted fingernails are chipped today and honestly, that’s a success for me.

I grin wide at my reflection, running my tongue along my teeth to make sure I have no pieces of leftover breakfast hanging around.

Then I swing the door open and immediately come face-to- face with a smirking Alek. He’s standing there with his arms crossed, his twitching lips confirming he just had a front row seat to my little appearance check.

So much for playing it cool today.

“Are you done making out with the front door, Mr. Parker?”

Two things happen simultaneously: embarrassment heats my entire body from head to toe, my face flushing even as a shiver runs through me at the smooth way he says Mr. Parker. My reactions to him are confusing, to say the least.

“I wasn’t—I, uh…”

Just like every other time I’ve interacted with him, my mouth goes dry and I become a fumbling mess.

And then my stomach does this weird flippy flop thing I do not appreciate.

Straight or not, I can admire how attractive another man is, right?

Alek Cromwell is a fucking bear of a man.

His biceps strain against his white dress shirt, almost like they disagree with being contained.

Not that biceps are sentient beings, but damn.

Even his muscles have muscles. He has a thick head of black hair, a sharp and cleanly shaven jaw, and icy-blue eyes that feel a little too intimate.

There’s the barest hint of salt and pepper around his temples, and the beginnings of laugh lines around his eyes.

The man is clearly aging like fine wine. Give it ten years’ time, and he’ll be a sexy silver fox.

I pause my idiotic stuttering when I notice his sleeves are pulled up to his elbows again. My eyes automatically dip down to those corded forearms. I have the insane urge to run a finger down the length of one, and the thought makes my cock twitch. Do I have a forearm fetish?

“Mr. Parker, my eyes are up here.”

“I wasn’t looking at your forearms,” I blurt out, immediately wincing when I realize how stupid that sounds. Alek’s eyes darken as they roam down the length of my body with an appraising look that makes me want to bend over backwards to give him anything he wants.

Holy shit, is Caleb’s dad checking me out?

Before I have time to question why that doesn’t bother me as much as I think it should, he crooks two fingers in a come-hither motion before spinning on his heel and striding through the lobby.

Instead of being irritated that he just beckoned me like a fucking dog, I follow him like an overly eager puppy .

Do I have a crush on my best friend’s dad?