"Where are you going?" he asks from inside his truck.
"Home,” I say.
"Get in. I’ll drive you," he says, and I know that I can argue with him and take my car, but he’ll only end up following me there, and then my father will be all over him for not looking out for me. Instead, I just open the truck door and get in.
"Someone done pissed you off," he says, pulling away from my house.
"Why do you say that?" I look over at him.
"You just got in without arguing with me, so you are either fucking pissed or you’re angry." He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes at him. "I’ll shut up now."
"That would be smart of you," I say, looking out the window.
We pull up to the house that I grew up in, and we both just walk in. The smell of bacon and sausage fills the air. I dump my purse at the door, and when I walk into the kitchen, I find my mother just cleaning up. "Chelsea," she says, dropping the plate in her hand on the counter and coming over to me. She grabs me in her arms, and I don’t know why, but I let go of the sob I’ve been holding. She’s always been the one whose arms I’ve cried in. Always the one to hold me up when I couldn’t hold myself up. It was a tough couple of years when Ethan left, and to be honest, we both had to hold each other up.
"I’ll let you handle that one," Quinn says. "I’ll be at the barn."
"Baby girl," she says in a whisper as she rubs down my hair. "Are you hurt?" she asks, and I slowly slip out of her arms, rubbing away the tears with the back of my hand.
"I’m fine, Mom," I say. "It’s nothing." I shake my head. "It’s stupid actually, and I shouldn’t have."
"Don’t you ever apologize for the way you feel,” she says. "Now, let’s go sit outside, and you can fill me in on what I missed."
I grab a glass of sweet tea and walk out to the backyard. The sound of birds fills the air. "You haven’t missed anything,” I say.
"From what your father said," she says, sitting with me on the L-shaped couch they have outside right next to the fire pit. "You’ve have a rough couple of weeks."
I shake my head. "I wasn’t the one who was shot."
"It took everything your father had not to rip you out of your own house," my mother says. "Me, on the other hand, I had different feelings about it.”
"And what was that?" I ask.
"Oh, honey, please," she says, rolling her eyes now at me. "You have been in love with that boy for eight years." I just look at her, my mouth hanging open. "Who do you think you’re talking to? If there is anyone who knows about loving someone from afar, it has to be me."
I laugh. "I thought I hid it so good."
"Oh, Jesus, anyone could take one look at you and know."
"Well, it doesn’t matter,” I say, sipping my tea. "The feeling is one-sided,” I say and rub away a tear. "I was hoping that…"
"You were hoping that you would save him, and he would see how much you love him?" She puts the words into my mouth.
"I don't know what I was hoping," I say. "He thinks he can’t be loved. He thinks I’m perfectly wrong for him." Saying the words out loud just cements what I was feeling. "He doesn’t think he’s worth it." My voice trembles as I think about how wrong he is.
"I know how that feels," my mother says. "To be from the opposite end of what everyone else is. To want so badly to be accepted but then be so scared that once you do, everything will be stripped away from you." She shakes her head now and wipes her own tear. "It’s a fear I still have to this day." I look at her. "I love your father so much." She smiles through her tears. "And I know he loves me, but that fear lingers. Of course, it’s less and less, and if you tell him this, I will deny it.”
"He will never leave you," I say. "He would move heaven and earth for you."
"I know that," she says. "But…"
"I love him, Mom," I admit. "So fucking much that it hurts, and love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”
"Oh, baby girl." She cups my face. "That is where you’re wrong. The harder we love, the more it hurts."
"Yeah, well, I have to admit that I’m the only one on that street, and I don’t want to be on it anymore." Saying it out loud is almost as if I’m admitting defeat.
"The heart wants what the heart wants,” she says. "You can say what you want. You can vow to never look at him that way. You can even tell yourself that tomorrow you are going to wake up and not care." She smiles at me. "I lied to myself for eight years. Instead of the feelings going away, they just got stronger. They got even deeper and stronger."
"Well, that answers that question," I say, not sure I can handle it any more. "Good news is that once this is finished, he’ll leave, so it might be a little easier."
She laughs. "Baby girl." She puts her arm around me. "Good luck with that."
Chapter 21
Mayson
The door slamming shut makes my stomach sink down to my feet. I walk out of the house, and my feet feel as if my shoes are filled with concrete. Every step was harder and harder than the next. I sat with her and watched the sun come up while she poured her heart out to me, and all I did was walk out on her. I wanted to run back in and kiss her goodbye. I wanted to tell her all the things. But instead, I walked to the truck.
"You ready for this?" Ethan says when he puts his truck in park. I look up, seeing the massive white barn in front of me.
"As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say as I get out of the truck. I put my head down, and all I can do is think back to how I left Chelsea. A burning forms in my stomach and rises to my chest.
We walk into the cool barn, and I look at the five white desks in front of another wall. "Are you ready to have your mind blown?" Ethan says, walking to another door and putting his fingerprint on it. The door unlocks, and he walks in. I follow him, and I’m in shock.
The whole back wall is filled with five big screens side by side. Five desks on each side of the room with full computers on it. "This looks like a military base."
"My uncle can be a little over the top," Ethan says to me. A side door opens, and Casey walks into the room with Jacob and Beau.
"Welcome to my playpen," Casey says with a smirk, and I shake my head.
"I thought he was a cowboy?" I mumble to Ethan, who just laughs now. "What is this place?"
"This is the eyes and ears of this town," Jacob says. "Along with a couple of other things that I can’t talk about." He smirks at me.
"Let’s get to work," Casey says from the big desk in front of the wall of five screens.
He’s about to press something when the door behind us opens, and Quinn walks in. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I say, and he just glares at me. "You’re supposed to be with Chelsea."
"She’s fine. She’s with my aunt," he says, looking at the guys. "I don’t know what happened this morning"—he stares straight at me—"but she was pissed."
"Probably just because we got her a babysitter," Ethan says, and I let out a little sigh of relief that he is not questioning it. But I can’t help but think there’s something more to it, and I know that sooner rather than later, I’m going to be face-to-face with Quinn again.
"Mayson," Ethan says, and I turn to look at the screen in the middle. The picture is of my father right outside the diner. It’s blurry, but you can tell it’s him. "Is this your father?"
"It is," I answer him, rage now filling me. I spot Chelsea coming out of the diner and then the look on her face. It was so much worse than it was when she came home, and that was a look I would never forget.
We also spot him taking off for the bushes. "He knew what he was doing," I say out loud and sit down in one of the chairs.
"That’s our thought, too," Jacob says. "We checked out the path he made, and a car's tire tracks were in the grass."
"Two people?" I say, and Casey nods.
"Two people?" I ask, shocked. "Who the fuck is he working with? Who would work with him? He was alone when he got me."
"How can you be sure?" Quinn asks. "You were tied to a f
ucking tree. He could have had ten people there, and you wouldn’t know."
"I watched him come and go, and he did it by himself,” I say.
"Okay, well, now that we have identified him," Beau says. "We can be on the lookout."
"From the looks of it, he’s not in town." Jacob joins in now.
"How can you be so sure of that?" I ask, my mouth so dry I can’t even swallow. "He could be hiding out somewhere right under our noses. Laughing at us."
"This town is small," Beau says. "If he was here, we would know.”
"Not if he doesn’t want you to," I say. "He was right in front of the diner. He was sending me a message."
"That is clear as day," Ethan says, and he leans back against the desk behind him.
"Now comes the tricky part," Casey says and types something on the table.
"Meet Braxton Michaels," he says, and a driver’s license comes up, and it’s my father. "This picture is from eight years ago."
"Fuck me," I say, and he pulls up all the credit cards that are owed. "How much is it?"
"Close to fifty," he says, and I think I’m going to throw up. "Two years ago, things changed. His second wife died, and his funding ran out."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I ask, confused.
"It means that he tapped out of every option. All the cards were canceled." He looks at me. "The woman he married had SSI benefits, but when she died, so did the benefits."
"You mean when he beat her to death?" I hiss out, putting my head back and looking up at the ceiling. "Everything is just one giant clusterfuck."
"The good news is we have a paper trail," Jacob says.
"Now what?" I ask.
"Now the fun starts." Casey rubs his hands together. "I got you a house. Put your name on the mortgage."
I look at him, shocked. "What the hell for?"
"Because he’s going to come back," Quinn says. "If he’s the way you said he is, this motherfucker isn’t going to be giving up until you stop breathing."
"We agree on one thing,” I say.
"You live your life," Ethan says. "Go out. We give you a job."
"So you dangle me like a piece of meat." I fold my arms over my chest. The rage in me is making my arms shake. "How about we follow him? How about we find out where he is, and then I go there and put a fucking bullet between his eyes?"
"Now you have a plan, too," Jacob says. "Come to work here and see if you can find anything else."
"I have no other option," I say. "My back is literally to the wall."
Casey walks toward me and holds out a key. "This is the key to your place." He dangles the gold key in front of me. My hand extends to take it, and it feels like it’s burning a hole in my palm.
"I’ll take you back to Chelsea’s, and you can get your things," Ethan says, and I just nod.
"I know it’s a lot to take in," Beau says. "If it helps, my father was no father of the year."
I don’t say anything. Instead, I just look at Ethan, and we both walk out. My head spins a mile a minute. I get into the truck and put my head back on the seat. "How’re you doing?"
"Peachy," I say sarcastically.
"Just think of this as a mission," Ethan says. "Just another mission."
"Every time I start a mission,” I say, "I make a plan for after."
"So let’s make you a plan," he says. "Where are you going to go after this is all done?”
I swallow now. "Haven’t decided,” I say. My heart is heavier in my chest than when my mother died. "I’ve never planted roots anywhere." I look out the window as we pull up to Chelsea’s house. My palms are getting sweaty now. "I’ve always liked this town."
He smiles. "I wouldn’t be upset if you decided to stay here when all this is over."
"You never know,” I say with my hand on the handle.
"I’ll be back tonight to take you out of here." He looks around. "Easier to move at night than in broad daylight."
"I’ll be waiting,” I say, getting out of the truck. I walk toward the door and then turn back to look at Ethan. "What is the code to the garage?"
"Zero five thirty-one," he says. "Her birthday."
"That’s safe," I mumble, going to the keypad, and it opens once I put the last number in. I walk into the house and call her name. "Chelsea," I say with no answer.
Walking toward the kitchen, I stop and all I can see is her at the sink beside me. Leaning over and kissing her. I look over at the couch where I spent the night away listening to her breathing beside me. Where I held her in my arms and for the first time in my whole life, I felt this calmness settle over me. Breathing didn’t hurt anymore. My eyes saw the goodness in the stars instead of the darkness that usually took over. I kissed her softly when she mumbled in her sleep.
“Every family has some cracks in the foundation. It’s about finding the crack and sealing it shut." I hear her voice in my head over and over again.
"You don't have cracks in your foundation," I say to myself, walking to the bedroom and grabbing the bag. Opening the bag, I start putting my things in. My hands are almost not moving.
"You have no foundation." I walk over to the bathroom now and look at myself in the mirror. "She is too good for you. Let her go."
Chapter 22
Chelsea
"I needed this." I look over at my grandmother’s face forming into the biggest smile. She really isn’t my blood grandmother, but she has never treated anyone as if they weren’t her blood.
"I haven’t seen you bake that much since you made the decision to become a nurse,” she says, sitting down next to me. She looks over at me. "what’s got your panties in a bunch?"
"Not much," I answer quickly. "I start working for the clinic in a couple of weeks, and I guess I’m more nervous than I thought."
She puts her hand on mine. "Oh, honey, your gonna have them eating out of your hand.."
I smile at her and squeeze her hand in mine. The back door opens, and my grandfather comes in. He spots me sitting down and smiles, taking off his cowboy hat. "There she is," he says. I walk over to him, and he opens his arms for me. I wrap my arms around his waist just like I used to do when I was younger. He kisses the top of my head. "Missed you."
"Missed you, too," I say in his chest. "I smell pie," he says, letting me go, and I just laugh.
"We baked strawberry, blueberry, apple, and your favorite," Grandma says. "Pecan." She gets up and walks over to the stove to cut him a piece. "Come and have a little taste."
He walks over to her and bends to kiss her lips. Their love is one of a kind. The kind of love you wish for. The kind of love that survives the hard times. The kind of love I have wished for my whole life. "So what’s troubling you?" Grandpa says, sitting down at the counter and looking over at me. "Twelve pies," he says. "Something must be weighing on your mind.”
"Can’t I just want to bake?" I throw up my hands. "Or that I missed Grandma."
"That," he says, pointing at me with his fork, "means someone has gotten under your skin."
"No one is anywhere," I say, walking to the fridge and grabbing the sweet tea. "Besides, if someone was under my skin, I’d be out shooting with you."
He chuckles. "You always had the best shot out of everyone," he says, and he is not wrong. He taught me how to shoot when I was almost twelve, and my aim was on point. He takes another bite. "How’s your house guest?"
"Alive," I say, taking a sip of the tea. "Speaking of, I should get going."
"You coming on Sunday?" my grandfather asks, and I just nod my head. "You better or I’m going to come and get you."
"That is six days away," I say. "I’ll be there."
"Good," he says. "Now let me finish my pie, and I can drive you home.”
"I can walk," I say, putting my purse over my shoulder, and he just gives me the side-eye.
"You think just because I don’t show up at the meetings with the men that I don’t know what’s going on," he says. "I know everything about my family. So let me finish th
is pie, and then I can take you."
"You can’t argue with him, honey," my grandmother says, smirking at him. "Trust me, I’ve been doing that my whole life," she says.
"I let you win," he says, looking up as he takes his last bite, and my grandmother glares at him. "Like now, I’m going to let you win and kiss you right before I leave."
She shakes her head but lets him kiss her. "See you soon." She comes over to me and hugs me. "You come on back and cook with me whenever you have yourself in a pickle."
I shake my head and follow my grandfather out of the house. His pickup truck is the same one he’s had for the past twenty years. Even though Uncle Casey bought him a new one five years ago, he still drives this one.
The door creaks when I open it, and when I sit down, I feel the springs under my butt. "It’s time we retire this truck,” I say. "Don’t you think?"
"She still has a couple of years left in her," he says, and I laugh at him.
"You’ve been saying that for the last ten years," I remind him, and now he’s the one laughing.
We pull up to my house, and I lean over the seat and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for driving me home,” I say and open the door to get out. The creaking is even louder now, and I slam the door, and he watches me walk into the house.
I slip the key in and unlock the door, not sure if Mayson will even be back. The cool air of the house hits me right away as I step in, and my eyes go to the green duffel bag at the front door. The same bag Ethan brought him over last week. My heart starts to speed up in my chest even faster than it did this morning when he walked away from me. I put my keys down on the table in the front hall.
My hands are suddenly sweaty and shaking. I lock it down, blinking away the tears climbing into my eyes. With heavy feet, I walk into the house, expecting him to be sitting on the couch waiting for me.
When I walk in and don’t see him there, I go to the kitchen and take a glass out, walking over to the sink and filling it with some cold water. My mouth suddenly dry, my eyes are fixated on the trees outside.
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