Beard With Me: Winston Brothers

by Penny Reid

  In the end, it didn’t take me long to stuff my things in a bag. I also grabbed my flashlight. Billy could see in the dark, but I couldn’t. Hand in hand, his guitar case over his other shoulder, we walked out of the woods and to his family’s field, neither of us talking. I was too busy reliving our kisses and laughter and singing, too content in my memory to notice the silence.

  But about halfway to the house, I sensed Billy’s attention on me, so I glanced over.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, but—” he cleared his throat “—before we get back to the house, we need to talk.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” He used his leverage on my hand to tug me closer.

  There’d been a time when I’d wished all of our conversations would happen in the dark, so that my brain wouldn’t short-circuit when we spoke. Not anymore. Glancing in his direction now, I was frustrated. I couldn’t make out his features as well as I wanted.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing is wrong. We just need to set some boundaries.”

  My steps faltered. “Boundaries?”

  He kept on walking, leading me forward. “Yes. Rules. Like, when we’re in my room, what we can and cannot do.”

  I quickened my step so that we were walking side by side again. “I don’t follow.”

  “Scarlet, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a hard time keeping my hands off you.”

  “Oh,” I said, my heart being faster at his lovely words. “Well, me too. Off you, I mean. I don’t have trouble not touching myself . . .” Oh God, kill me now.

  “Is that so?” His voice turned teasing. “Tell me more.”

  I huffed, my face now flaming. “You know what I mean,” I mumbled, mortified.

  He chuckled, making me huff again, and then he brought us to a stop. “Here’s the thing,” his tone was serious again, mostly. “I think it’s real important that you keep sleeping in the spare bed, in my room.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “So I don’t think, when we’re inside the house, we should kiss or touch each other. That should be the rule.”

  I frowned, once more wishing I could see him better. “You don’t want to kiss me inside your house?”

  “Oh, no. That’s not it at all. I do want to kiss you inside my house, in my room, on my bed. Very much.” His voice turned chocolatey again, making my mouth water and a shiver rise inside me, starting low in my stomach and coiling around my heart.

  “And that’s why we should make the rule,” he continued, his words carefully light while the weight of his obscured gaze felt like the opposite. “Rules remove temptation—uh, mostly—and set limits. You sleeping somewhere warm, indoors, that’s what’s important. I want you to feel safe with me, always.”

  “I do feel safe with you.” As soon as the words were out, words I hadn’t planned on saying, I felt how true they were.

  I’d never felt safe with anyone, not like this. Not in every sense of the word. But I felt that with and for Billy.

  From what I could see in the dim illumination of the flashlight, my admission earned me a shy-looking smile, one that seemed both pleased and humbled. It took my breath away. He was so beautiful sometimes, like now, all shapes and shadows, I had trouble concentrating.

  So my brain still short-circuited sometimes. So what? It’s worth it.

  “Good, I’ll always put your safety first. Always,” he said, quietly, solemnly. “Then we agree? Once we step inside the house, no more touching?”

  “Okay. But—” I scrunched my face, feeling restless at the thought of not being able to touch him “—not even holding hands?”

  He gave me a small smile. If I was reading it right, it looked pained. “I think it would be best if we didn’t.”

  Hmm. I didn’t like that. “But when we’re outside of the house?”

  “Then touching’s fine.”

  “All touching?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed with an audible swallow, like he had something thick and sharp there, and I sensed his eyes move between mine. “Within reason.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, you can touch me however you want.”

  “But?”

  “But . . .” He laughed uncomfortably and—no lie—even in inadequate light I could see he was embarrassed by something. Billy’s cheeks above his beard burned and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “What? What is it?” My smile was automatic. I loved this, making him blush, and my mind shifted through the last few minutes, trying to figure out the source of his adorable discomfort (so I could make it happen again).

  Sighing, he looked over my head, he looked to the right, he glanced at the ground, and then he sighed again. “Scarlet.”

  “Billy.”

  “I want to be with you. Never doubt that.” Billy released my fingers, his hand traveling up my arm to my neck, pushing into my hair. “And when you’re ready—if you’re ready—I hope you’ll want me the same way. I’ll touch you where you touch me, I’ll put my mouth where you put yours. But I’m never going to move faster than the pace you set.”

  Good Lord in heaven, that sounds wonderful.

  “What if I want to go the speed of light?” I blurted in my excitement, but I wished the words back as soon as I’d said them.

  I’m not ready.

  I wanted to be ready.

  In fact, I couldn’t wait to be ready.

  But not yet. It’s still more scary than interesting.

  His gaze lifted and seemed to glow, even in the dark. I breathed through the jarring collision, waiting with bated breath for his answer.

  “You’re fourteen,” he said softly, carefully, like I was a treasure. Like I was his treasure. “The last thing I ever want to be for you is a regret.”

  Chapter Twenty

  *Scarlet*

  “Family cannot be determined by blood. Family is determined by actions. Family is about trust. Family is about acceptance. Family is about love. True family is earned, not born.”

  Sarah Brianne, Vincent

  The inevitable happened on Friday, the day after my best day ever.

  I was walking across the student parking lot, passing the left taillight of Charles Boone’s truck. Someone called my name. Innocent as could be, I glanced over my shoulder toward the owner of the voice.

  Mistake.

  Jethro Winston. Sitting halfway on his bike. Just there. Grinning at me like he was happy to see me. My stomach hit the pavement.

  Shit.

  On instinct, I glanced around, looking for others. I found them. Chains. King. Gears. Runner. Tank. Gunner. Crow. Seven. There were seven more of them, scattered all over the place. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

  “Hey, Scarlet.” Jethro set his helmet on one handle of his bike and sauntered over to where I stood rooted in place. Jethro always sauntered, it was just his way.

  My mind a swirl of panic by the time Jethro stopped in front of me, I knew he saw the wildness in my eyes, because he lifted a hand like he was approaching a startled animal, his grin small and gentle.

  “Hey there. It’s okay.”

  How could I have been so stupid? What had I been thinking? My heart joined my stomach at my feet and a rush of freezing, numbing reality rushed through my body.

  You haven’t been thinking. You’ve been dreaming.

  I always left school out the back door, or a side door. I’d always been careful to take a meandering path to the forest entrance. Walking along the perimeter of the parking lot, or doubling back just in case someone was watching me, or going around the stadium in order to take the long way so as to be sure I wasn’t followed had been normal.

  Regardless, in order to get to the wooded path, I had to first walk beyond the student parking lot. The entrance to the forest and my trail was at the far corner of the lot, and that was that. It wasn’t that I thought I could avoid my father and his men forever, it’s that I wanted—needed—to be brought in o
n my own terms, after I’d mentally prepared.

  I didn’t want to be ambushed, like today.

  Today, my guard was down. I’d allowed myself to get too comfortable, I’d stopped being careful. Instead of doing what I always did, instead of thinking, I’d exited the front doors of the school right after the bell rang. Amid the standard chaos of buses lining up, and students leaving, and cars pulling out, and kids meeting up with their friends, I walked in a straight line across the parking lot to the corner. None of my classmates were interested in me or where I was going. Who would care to notice? Right?

  My mistake wasn’t the directness of my path to the trail, because I’d been right. None of my classmates noticed, they didn’t care where I was headed. No, my mistake was threefold:

  First, using the main doors to exit.

  Second, not taking notice of my surroundings because I was so anxious to get going so I could write down and work on a song that had been running through my head all day.

  And third, I’d walked across the student lot, a space accessible to a motorcycle.

  Fucking hindsight.

  “Hey now. No reason to worry.” Jethro had such a nice voice. Calm, reasonable, kind.

  It wasn’t Jethro Winston I was worried about. He was a joker, charming, downright sweet in comparison to his club brothers. Yeah, Jethro was a criminal. He was the best car thief in Tennessee. And he was good with the ladies, bringing in new and willing women (women, not girls) all the time for the other members whenever he was in town, which was rarely.

  Everyone liked Jethro, even me. He’d intervened a time or two on my behalf, on the behalf of other kids of members in the compound. He’d stepped between me and an angry biker more times than I could count. It had been Jethro all those months ago who’d shown me where I could camp behind his family’s house, given me the tent and money and blankets and lighter, and dug the firepit. He’d saved me, in a way.

  But we both knew why he was here now, and it wasn’t to save me.

  “Let me go. Please. Please let me go,” I begged softly, blinking away the sting of tears.

  His eyes hinted at remorse, but the line of his mouth was firm. “Scarlet, it’s fine. It’s just you and me.”

  “Then why’re all of them here?” I gestured vaguely to the rest of the bikers. “Why bring seven men?”

  “They’re not for you. They’re here looking for someone else. I’m here for you, just me. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “You and I both know you can’t keep that promise.” My eyes bounced from Tank to Raymond King. But even in my state of terror I realized Jethro was right. They weren’t paying attention to me. They seemed to be looking for someone else.

  Jethro gave me a rare frown. “Red, we’ve known each other a long time and I think of you like a sister, okay? I care about you. If I give you my word, you can count on it. I asked to come. I wanted to pick you up because I wanted to make sure I was the one to bring you in. Your daddy just wants to talk.”

  I shook my head, biting my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling.

  “Please, Red. Just come with me.” He stepped closer, holding out his hand a little. “When I asked, Razor said he just needs to speak with you.”

  “He never just talks and you know it.” I cursed the tremor in my voice, my attention moving from Runner to Gears. Neither of them were looking at us.

  “And you know that as soon as I found out he was cutting on you, I got you out of there. You should’ve told me sooner.”

  “Well, you’ve never been around much to tell, so . . .”

  He made a frustrated sound. “Please. I promise”—his voice turned fierce—“I will stay with you.”

  I glanced at his hand, knowing I didn’t really have a choice. But movement in my peripheral vision spooked me and I jumped away. King—Raymond King, Prince King’s daddy—was sitting just beyond my line of sight and he was perpetually impatient. If any of them was going to march over, pluck me off the ground, and carry me like a sack of potatoes, it would be him.

  But to my infinite surprise, it wasn’t King that had caught my eye. He was still sitting on his bike, glaring at the school, paying us no mind.

  It was Billy.

  Oh no.

  My stomach sunk past my feet and into the earth, and the terror I felt now—maybe because it was for Billy and not for me—made me dizzy.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit! No. No!

  Billy, walking toward us and flicking his glare between me and Jethro, wore an expression meaner and angrier than a pissed off badger. I’d never seen him look anywhere near this upset. I gulped, not knowing what to do, or what he was going to do. But I begged him silently with my eyes to stay away. When it came right down to it, I’d known my daddy would want another visit, I was resigned to it. I just hadn’t counted on it being so soon.

  But instead of staying away, Billy startled me by shouting to his brother, “Hey! Jethro.”

  Jethro tensed, his eyes closing for a beat. A curse slipped past his lips, and then he muttered something like, “Here we go.” But when he turned toward Billy, Jethro was smiling. “Oh, hey Billy. Fancy running into you here. That fine girl of yours around? I’d like an introduction.”

  Billy made no reaction to his brother’s comment, coming to a stop next to and slightly in front of me, stepping into Jethro’s personal space and forcing the older Winston brother to back up.

  “You need to leave,” Billy said with such authority, I half-expected Jethro to listen.

  Jethro’s eyelids lowered into a glare and he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, the action reminding me of Billy, which was strange. I knew they were brothers. They looked alike in small and big ways. But they were so incredibly different.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” Jethro’s voice was hard, but it also held an edge of pleading. “Walk away. Please.”

  Instead, Billy crossed his arms. “Fuck off.”

  Jethro’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious. Walk. Away.” Then, with a meaningful glare, Jethro looked around at each of the MC guys, as though to say, This isn’t a fight you can win.

  “Fine. I’ll walk away.” Then, facing me, Billy said, “Let’s go, Scarlet.”

  I stared at him, shocked, unsure what to do.

  On the one hand, he was offering me a way out. For now. But at what cost? We walk away now, they’d just get me later. And then they’d make an example of Billy. Whether Billy Winston liked it or not, he was in the life because of who his father was. Sure, he might’ve been skirting the edges of it, about to break free when he left for college next year, but for now he had to live by the club rules or die by them.

  Saving me now meant a visit from someone else later, and I couldn’t bear the thought of Billy being hurt because of me. He needed to let me go with Jethro, but before I could find the right words to tell him so, I became aware of someone else approaching. Billy’s eyes moved between mine, intent, intense, pleading, and then lifted to glance over my head. Whatever or whoever he saw made him blink in surprise and then tense. I turned on autopilot, following his line of sight, and my heart leapt.

  Ben.

  Like an angel from heaven appearing at just the right moment, it was Ben McClure, and Ben McClure was Jethro’s best friend. If Jethro would listen to anyone, it was Ben. Billy wouldn’t be able to intervene without consequences, but Ben could. He could buy me time, then I could turn myself in. Later.

  I breathed out my anguish and breathed in hope.

  “Jethro?” Ben’s stroll was easy, his gaze untroubled, his smile wide. “Hey. I thought that was you!”

  Jethro’s spine straightened and a grin split his face as soon as he saw Ben. Seemingly forgetting about me or his errand, he met his friend halfway and they embraced, patting each other on the back and laughing as they separated.

  “Ben. Man, it’s good to see you. How’s your mom? How’s college? You in town for a while?”

  “She’s good. It’s good. Everything’s great.
I’m in town for the weekend, but I was home last week for Thanksgiving. You should come over, if you want. We’ll catch up.”

  Billy made a sound behind me, something I was sure only I heard, but it reminded me of an enraged yet wounded animal and I turned slightly to look at him. His attention was fastened on the two men who didn’t seem aware of anyone but each other. He didn’t look angry as he watched their interaction. Or rather, he didn’t look just angry. He looked wrecked.

  Hurt.

  Heartbroken.

  Jealous.

  The look on his face and in his eyes had my fingers itching to hold him and kiss him and make him feel as treasured as he’d made me feel just yesterday. But then, in the next second his eyes cut to mine, hardened, shuttered.

  I glanced away quickly while heat rose to my cheeks. I got the sense I’d witnessed something I wasn’t meant to see. I also thought maybe—if I’d had the time to think and consider, if we weren’t surrounded by Iron Wraiths and I wasn’t scared out of my mind—this moment would’ve been an extremely meaningful one for understanding the sweet, noble, beautiful, but deeply complicated boy at my side.

  I could still feel the weight of Billy’s eyes on my profile as Jethro and Ben approached, their easy, happy conversation discordant to my ears given the tornado of feelings whirling around my head.

  “Billy,” Ben said, reaching out his hand.

  Billy took it. They shook quickly, released. “Ben,” was all he said, his voice still cool and remote.

  “Looking forward to the game tonight,” Ben said with that strange smile he reserved for Billy Winston.

  Then to me, he abruptly leaned forward, grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Hey ya, Scarlet. Glad I found you.” Ben leaned away, leaving me flustered, but he didn’t go far. Instead, he slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, away from Billy. “Wanted to see if you were up for catching a movie tonight after the game or something.”

  Oh my God. What is happening?

  I opened my mouth to speak, but alas, no sound. No thoughts neither. My brain was like a wasteland. I was one of those computers who couldn’t compute.