“How’d I know this is where you’d be?” a voice chuckles.
The chair screeches as he pulls it out and I watch him sit down across from me. I shake my head at my cousin. “You follow me?” I ask.
He snorts. “Fuck no, I woke up and you were gone…” His words trail off, but I understand his meaning. He was checking up on me, afraid that I was about to sink down the rabbit hole. Something warm fills my chest. My cousin gives a fuck, he really does, and that means something to me.
“Thought about her all night. It’s fucked,” I admit.
I snap my lips closed when she walks out with two coffees in her hand and sets them down in front of us. “You hungry, Wyatt?” she asks.
A spike of jealousy flows through me. She knows his name and doesn’t know mine. She’s smiling at him, not at me. She talks to him easily, without stumbling or the shake in her voice. I hate it. I fucking hate it, and yet I know that I fucking deserve it, every bit.
“Yeah, eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, darlin’,” he grins.
She nods, quickly turning around and hurrying away. Shifting my gaze to my cousin, I frown. “Don’t even,” he says, lifting his finger and pointing. “You don’t need to be dating anyone, and that girl’s got enough on her plate,” he states.
Lifting my chin, I lean back in my chair. “And what’s she got?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “There’s enough small-town gossip going on. It’s her story to share, not mine,” he shrugs.
“Why do you know it?” I demand, losing my attempt at being calm and cool.
His brown eyes meet mine, leveling me immediately. “I don’t know details. I know the guy’s older brother. I know what he’s into, I assume from the rumors in town, little brother is much of the same.”
Frowning, I think about his words, about what he’s telling and isn’t telling me. There’s a story, a long sorted story, and I want to know what it is. I want to protect Channing from it, I feel the need deep in my bones. It’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. There is something about her, something that draws me to her.
She appears with our plates of food and sets them down, along with some ketchup and Tabasco. “Can I get y’all anything else?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
When I look up at her, I notice that she’s not looking at me. She’s staring across the room. I turn my gaze, following hers and see a young couple sitting at a booth across from one another.
“No thanks, darlin’,” Wyatt says, keeping his voice softer than usual.
I don’t bother looking up at her, instead, I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. When I do, the man across from us, his gaze comes over and I watch as his eyes zero in on my hand wrapped around hers. Something ugly crosses his face, as he lifts his gaze to mine. Instead of removing my hand, I keep it in place and give him a cocky grin.
Fuck him.
He looks like a weasel motherfucker. “I’m good, babe,” I grunt, keeping my eyes on his.
She doesn’t move, she stays frozen. Tearing my eyes from the fucker, I look over to her. I expect her to be staring at him, still but she isn’t. She’s looking down at me. Her smile is shaky, but she aims one in my direction and I feel fucking ten-feet tall.
“You okay?” I chance asking, keeping my voice low.
She nods once, slowly. I watch as she presses her lips together, her eyes staying glued to my own. “I will be,” she whispers.
I don’t want to, but I release her wrist. I watch her walk toward the back and slip into the kitchen. “Trouble. You love it don’t you?” Wyatt asks.
“That the douche she’s mixed up with?” I ask, picking up the syrup and pouring it all over my stacked hotcakes.
Chuckling, Wyatt shoves some eggs in his mouth. “That’s the rumor.”
I glance over to the table again. He’s no longer watching me, his gaze is pointed at the woman across from him. She’s pretty, a bit plain but I’d fuck her if she spread. He smiles and I notice it’s all teeth, all fake.
I know what a weasel and predator looks like. Been around them my whole fuckin’ life, locked up with hundreds of them for five years. This motherfucker is dirty, and I have no doubt that he’s a sick piece of shit on top of it all.
I’m going to figure it out, find out what he did to her. Then I’m going to take her pain away. She should never look like her world is torn to shreds. She should always smile. Always. She should never tremble out of obvious fear or being upset, only out of anticipated pleasure.
Looking back at the closed kitchen door, I decide that I can’t just leave her alone. No way in fuck. Once I get my shit in order, I’m going after this gorgeous girl. I’m going to make her mine.
CHANNING
Lulamae gives me another look. “I got your table, but honey, either you press charges against this asshole, or you may want to just leave town. He’s going to keep following you around,” she announces.
Nodding, I agree. However, I can’t do either. I don’t have any money to leave town. I can’t press charges either. I was eighteen when we were together, and sure it was unethical, but all it would get was him fired. Then he’d be even angrier with me.
I need to attempt to ignore him, to move on with my life, to take care of my baby. The tattooed man, his hand—his touch, crosses my mind. Lifting my wrist, I wrap my fingers around where he’d just held me. His fingers were rough, not soft, but I can’t deny that I liked them against my skin.
There was something in his eyes, something dangerous, yet, gentle. “Lula?” I ask.
She stops, two plates in her hands ready to deliver. “That man, the one with the tattoos. What’s his name?” I chance.
She sighs, looking disappointed in me. “Rylan Lindsay. He’s too old for you, and too much trouble, girl,” she states as her warning. I watch her turn and march out to deliver her food.
After hiding out in the kitchen for far too long, I walk out and get back to work. I’m glad, yet a little disappointed at the same time, to see that Rylan and Wyatt are gone. Shifting my glance over to where James and Jenifer were seated, I hold my breath as I watch them stand to their feet.
James glances over at me, it’s cold and hard, full of anger and malice. He walks away, thankfully without a word. He and Jennifer make their way outside and I watch every step. When they walk by a pickup truck, I look into the cab and my breath hitches.
Rylan and Wyatt are both sitting in the truck, their eyes on James and Jennifer. They sit, unmoving as they watch James and Jennifer load up in their own car. When their car is in reverse, only then does the truck move.
“Trouble,” Lulamae reminds me.
I nod. “Yeah,” I breathe.
Trouble.
If he’s trouble, he’s possibly the best kind of trouble I’ve ever seen before in my life. Shaking my head, I get back to work. He’s sweet, and I appreciate him and Wyatt looking out for me, but that’s all it can be. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing.
Once my shift is finished, I walk over to the phone behind the drinking fountain machine and dial my doctor’s number. I’ve avoided it for a week. I know I’m pregnant, it’s not a secret, but getting confirmation, that terrifies me.
Also, the fact that I don’t have any kind of insurance is scary too. I’ll do what I need to, for this baby though. I’ve already fallen in love with it, already bonded. It’s mine. Nobody else’s, but mine. James doesn’t want it, and although it hurts, I’m honestly okay with that.
Having the past two-weeks without any contact with James has done wonders for my state of mind. He doesn’t want us. That’s fine. He also doesn’t want the burden of being financially responsible for either of us. I am okay with that, too. I grew up not knowing my father, and my mother not receiving a dime from him. It was tough, but we survived. Granted not always well, but we did.
I’ll be different from my mother, I’ll be better. I won’t parade men in and out of my house. I won’t drink or shoot shit into my body. I will be lovin
g, kind, and caring. I will work my fingers to the bone for this child. I will be the best mother I can be, no matter how tired I am.
“Dr. Chapman’s office,” the receptionist calls out.
Clearing my throat, I tell her I’m pregnant and estimate how many weeks. She hums, then makes me an appointment for next Friday. In one week I’ll get the official confirmation that the life inside of me is real, is there and is growing.
After hanging up the phone, I leave the diner. Once I’m in my car, I start the engine, but I don’t go home. I need to go grocery shopping and luckily I have enough in tip money to splurge a little tonight, maybe even buy some ice cream for myself.
Driving down Main Street, I pull into a parking spot. Shifting the car into park, I look ahead of me. Dandelions & Dragons. It’s the local baby boutique. I’ve never ventured inside, never needed to before. I do now. I have a very big reason to go inside.
Wiping my hands on my jeans, I inhale then exhale before I head for the front door. Once I’m inside I’m greeted by hundreds of little baby knickknacks. Little clothes, shoes, bibs, socks—they’re everywhere.
“Hello, can I help you with something?” a voice asks behind the counter.
I turn toward her, and smile, that smile turns shaky when I realize who is standing there. “Hey Avery,” I call out with a wave.
Slowly, I make my way toward her, forcing my feet to move. I went to high school with Avery, and while we weren’t best friends, we were friendly. I just know that after this moment, everybody in town will know my situation. Every single person. It was going to happen, eventually, I just wasn’t ready for it to happen today.
“Oh my gosh, hey girl, hey,” she cries, scurrying from behind the counter.
She wraps me in a hug like we’re long lost besties. “Are you picking out a gift for someone?” she asks once she takes a step back.
I feel my face heat, and I shake my head. “I’m, just looking around,” I say, trying to avoid answering her.
“Oh, something in particular?” she asks, looking curious.
Shaking my head, I inhale. “Newborn stuff,” I admit.
Her eyes light up, then glance down at my belly. “Are you?” she asks almost on a squeal. I nod my head, knowing that there is no way out of this. “Oh my gosh, you’re the second newly pregnant person from high school in here today alone. Well, Mr. Bridges’ wife I guess isn’t from our high school, but you just missed them. She’s pregnant too,” Avery informs me.
My stomach twists, it’s ugly and painful. I place my hand on my lower belly and attempt to breathe through it. Will it ever end? Doubtful. So fucking doubtful.
“Oh, that’s wonderful for them,” I lie through gritted teeth.
“I remember how much you liked him and all,” she smiles. “God, wasn’t he just the best looking teacher at school? You know I heard a rumor he was having an affair with a student. I never believed it though. After today, I couldn’t believe it, he was so doting to his wife,” she sighs as if James is some dreamy prince.
If she only knew what kind of man he was. Though, I doubt she would believe me. It seems as though she has an extremely high opinion of him, as I’m sure the rest of the town does. “Who’s the lucky daddy?” she asks.
My body jerks from its daydream state and I give her a sad smile. “No daddy. Just me,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “I know you didn’t get that way by yourself, spill, girl,” she grins.
I bite the corner of my lip, wondering if I should lie to her, tell her the truth, or omit names and tell her as much of the truth as possible. I decide on the latter.
“A guy I was seeing. Turns out he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, so it’s just me,” I smile.
It’s kind of the truth, and it makes me feel less sick saying it aloud than the full-truth, or a lie would. I’m going to stick with this story from now on. It’s just easier.
“Oh you poor thing, men can be such bastards,” she says with a grin.
She doesn’t believe her own words. She’s holding out hope for a prince charming. I snort. She can have one. Prince Charming doesn’t exist, not in the real world. You have to learn how to take care of yourself. You cannot count on some man on a white horse to scoop you up and save you. I know I never will, not ever again.
Chapter Five
RYLAN
The bar is smoky, the ventilation shit. Though I don’t know what I expect from the honky tonk in town. I watch the people on the dance floor gliding across. Bringing my water to my lips, I wonder if I can get away with drinking a few beers. I haven’t tasted liquor for five years. Though, beer was never my problem. Whiskey, however, was.
“Oh the guys are here,” Wyatt announces.
I follow his gaze to the door. Two men walk in. I recognize one of them as Ford Matthews, the other looks familiar but I have no fucking clue who he is. They lift their chins in our direction. Turning back around, I assume they stop at the bar.
“You gotta let her go. That isn’t anything you want to touch, Ry,” Wyatt mutters.
I shake my head, my eyes glancing around the women in the room. They are who I don’t want, none of them hold the same appeal that curvy little blonde held. Not even fucking close. “Can’t. There’s something about her,” I shrug.
“Damaged,” he grunts.
Looking over at him, I take a good look at my cousin. He understands, I don’t know why or how, but he does. “One damaged soul, attracted to another,” I state.
He nods. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Hey,” a voice says from next to us.
Looking up, I see that I was right. Both of the men joining our table have fresh beers in hand. Introductions are made. I was right, one of the men is Ford Matthews, the other is Louis Kingston.
“I knew I recognized you,” I say, lifting my water to Louis. He dips his head slightly, obviously not wishing to make a big deal about his presence. “You gonna get that heavyweight champ belt?” I ask.
His head pops up and he smirks. “You know it,” he grunts.
Heavy Weight fucking Champion. That’s who is sitting at my table. “Watched your last fight while I was locked up. Fucking fantastic,” I say lifting my water.
His eyes widen slightly, and he smiles. “Thanks, brother,” he grins.
“How’d you end up in this little town?” I ask, arching a brow.
He clears his throat, taking a pull from his beer. “Bought some land out in the middle of fucking nowhere, to get away. Built a house, house needed powerlines. Which is how I met Wyatt. The rest is kind of history. I come out here when I’m not training for a fight. It’s where I’m most at peace,” he explains.
“It is peaceful here. Sometimes it’s too fucking quiet,” Ford grunts. Then he looks over at me. “How you doin’, Rylan? Fuck it’s been years.”
He holds his hand out across the table and I lift my own, shaking his. “It has. Last time I saw you, you were on the football field at Burnet high school,” I chuckle.
He shakes his head. “Homecoming is in a coupla weeks, you should come. We tailgate every year, sometimes Beaumont comes to town, too,” he says mentioning our own hometown legend.
Fuck.
I forgot about Beaumont Griffin. He was a year ahead of us in school. He was a quarterback of the football team, point guard for the basketball team, in choir, and in every school play. He was in a million clubs, and on the honor roll. Needless to say, we didn’t hang out in the same circles. Nobody ever said a bad word about the guy, he was a legend before he ever left town.
Now?
Now, he’s truly a legend. He’s a music star. On all of the red carpets, had a few cameos in some television shows. He made it, he has fucking made it. Can’t say that for many people who grew up here, but it’s true for Beaumont.
The three men talk amongst themselves, but my mind is occupied by a sweet little blonde. I can’t keep my mind off of her, she’s seared into my brain.
I need her.
G
od do I need her.
I don’t know why I do so fucking badly, but I do. It’s not a want at this point, it’s a need. Maybe if I become friendly with her, I can just protect her from that asshole, maybe that will be enough to tide me over. I doubt it, I fucking highly doubt it.
“Fuck, this town,” Ford groans.
I look over at him, frowning. “What about it?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
Wyatt chuckles, punching Ford in the arm. “He’s just pissed off because he’s fucked everyone here who ain’t his cousin.”
“And didn’t go back for seconds,” Ford cringes.
I laugh. “You gotta get to the city man, get you some prissy girl city snatch,” I say, pointing my finger toward him.
He frowns. “Nah, they don’t like the country. They like to stay right there, in the city,” he points out.
I shrug, leaning forward. “Didn’t say marry the bitches. Show them a little redneck dickin’, then move right along.”
Louis laughs beside me. “Ford’s ready to make babies on that big ass family ranch of his,” he points out.
The mention of the word baby sends a wave of guilt throughout my entire body. I try to shake it off, but as always, it lingers. Clearing my throat, I glance over to Wyatt and he sends me a look full of pure goddamn pity. I hate it. I don’t deserve his pity. Not at fucking all.
“Need you a young good girl. There’s gotta be some hometown girls here that you ain’t related to,” I say. “You won’t find wifey material in here though.”
He grunts, lifting his beer to his lips. “Not finding one at church either,” he states.
“Why not?” Louis asks, though it sounds like he knows the answer because he’s laughing.
Ford picks up his coaster and tosses it toward Louis’ head. He catches it before it hits him, chucking it back onto the table. “You know why,” he grinds out.
“They won’t do his kinky bedroom shit,” Wyatt laughs.
My eyes widen, looking over at Ford. Never would have guessed he was kinky. Not in high school and not today. He’s clean cut, wearin’ a cowboy hat, and a button-down plaid fuckin’ shirt with pearl goddamn snaps.
CONVICT: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 4
