Sounded like someone watched a lot of TV crime drama. Cait almost wanted to roll her eyes, but Tommy was a lot more unstable than when she knew him. He could very well carry out the threat, or accidentally shoot someone with that loaded gun he kept waving around.
Since Glen was out cold, there was no use telling him to run for it. Cait watched as Tommy picked up the kid and placed him over his shoulder, then walked off with the boy into one of the bedrooms.
As soon as he disappeared, Cait stepped into the closest bathroom and locked the door. She turned on the water and splashed her face.
Nausea overtook her, and she hung onto the side of the sink, swallowing bile.
Never in a million years did she expect to see Tommy again. He’d had such big dreams, of acting and writing, and going to London to study drama.
Instead, he’d turned into a meth addict and fried so many brain cells, he was irrational and dangerous. What was his end game? Did he actually think she would fall into his arms again after he’d rejected her in her moment of need?
Cait let the sick feelings flood her. She sat down in front of the toilet, holding her upset stomach, as nausea gripped and clenched her gut.
She’d been stupid and naïve, believing all the romantic lines Tommy had thrown at her. Lines she now knew were designed to make her think they were in love, and therefore allowed or justified in sleeping together.
It had been a delicious little secret for her, something that had added a zing to her step and made her feel normal and desired. She’d always been the sensible one, the sister who wore comfortable shoes, the one who toed the line.
Jenna was the beautiful one, the blonde who got all the attention and compliments, while Melisa was the sweet and adorable baby.
Having Tommy in secret had made high school bearable for an awkward, pimple-faced redhead who failed everything she’d tried out for, from drill team to volleyball to the marching band.
She well-remembered the mixture of panic and excitement when she found out she was pregnant. Tommy had always said they’d be married after he came back from college. He’d painted a grandiose future together where they’d split their time between London and Hollywood, rubbing elbows and shoulders with playwrights, actors, and movie stars.
But it had all gone wrong, and now she was staring at a toilet, unable to stop thinking about the gush of blood that had ended her baby’s life.
Cold sweat dotted her forehead and she moaned, feeling dizzy and sick. At the time, she’d actually been relieved that the baby was no more, but now, it only made it more horrible. Maybe God was punishing her now, by bringing Tommy back into her life to show her how depraved she’d been.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Hey you in there.” Tommy jiggled the doorknob and popped the privacy lock. “Open up.”
Cait pushed herself away from the toilet and shot him an indignant glare. “Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I, uh, found some female stuff.” He slammed a carton of sanitary napkins on the counter.
“What happened to you anyway?” Cait couldn’t help her curiosity. “Where did you go after high school? You never wrote, never called me again. Didn’t you care what happened to me?”
“Of course I cared,” Tommy said. “And I see you took care of your little problem.”
“I didn’t take care of it. I lost it.” She knew exactly what he was referring to.
“Yeah, same difference,” Tommy said. “Except now, I’m not losing Glen to anyone else. Not after Mrs. Thornton set me up and got me arrested and sent to prison. All because she favored Brian. She wanted him to be the father of her kid.”
“Uh, isn’t the senator Glen’s father?”
“No, I am,” Tommy pointed to his hollow chest and coughed, rasping. “I had sex with Alana unprotected.”
Cait winced, because that was exactly what Tommy had demanded, and she’d been stupid enough to let him when he swore he’d never been with anyone else.
“I don’t get why she’d set you up and deny you your son if you were truly the father. I would think Alana would have gotten a DNA test if she was unsure who the baby’s father was.”
“Alana’s a witch. She says I’m bipolar.”
“She certainly liked to diagnose people,” Cait said under her breath. She yawned again, because she really wanted Tommy to fall asleep. “Anyhow… Let me clean up my feminine things, and I’ll see you in the morning. What would you like for breakfast? I hope the senator stocked the refrigerator.”
“He didn’t, but the caretaker did,” Tommy said.
“Oh, really? And where is the caretaker?” Cait raised an eyebrow.
