by T. L Smith
I hear his laughter as we both stroll around to the back of the truck. He starts to unload, and I grab the smaller pieces that I can carry and leave all the larger ones for him. We don’t talk as we work, but I can feel his eyes on me. Just as we’re finishing, Noah pulls up with my sister in tow. She slides out of the car and heads straight over and throws her arm through mine.
“You’re dirty. And not in a good way either.”
“Girls, we can hear you,” Noah says, smiling widely at Rhianna.
“Hush you.” She turns back to me. “Dinner tonight? If you don’t have any other plans, that is?”
August, who has his shirt off, is wiping his face with it.
“I mean, I would give me a pass if I was looking at that,” Rhianna states.
“Can still hear you,” Noah reminds her.
August’s eyes find mine and quickly shift away as he goes back to emptying the truck.
“Sure, I’ll see you then.”
She and Noah take off, leaving me alone again with August. I follow him out the back of his home to the shed where all the wood is piled, and watch as he opens the big double doors. Inside are tools hanging on the wall, which I have no idea what they’re for, and a large bench running down the middle. “You make all your things here?” I question, stepping in through the doors. Down at the very end of the garage is a large table that holds a few of his works in progress. I run my hand over the smooth wood and turn back to him.
“Woodworking was the only class I enjoyed,” he tells me, referring back to his high school days. “Then, in prison, it was the same. It kept me occupied and helped to pass the time.” He shrugs. “I like to make things with my hands.”
“Will you make me something?” I ask. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
“What could you possibly need?”
“Surprise me,” I reply.
August wipes his hands on the shirt, which he tucked into the top of his jeans and is now hanging down the side of his leg. He starts to head back to the house. “Come on, I’m starving.”
I follow him inside and to the kitchen, where he starts pulling out food from the refrigerator and then pours himself a glass of milk. When he offers me a glass, I shake my head, scrunching up my nose.
Milk on its own is disgusting.
How he can drink it like that? I have no idea.
A knock on the door is heard, and he places the glass down, stepping off to answer it. I can’t see who it is, but I can definitely hear them.
“August, look… I know you did the right thing…” The visitor pauses. “She’s been asking to see you.” I step into view so whoever it is knows I’m here. Officer Glenn is standing at the front door with Paige by his side. He scrunches his eyes in confusion as he checks between us.
“Miss Harley,” he says, nodding to me.
“Hi, Glenn, Paige, good to see you both.”
“Am I interrupting anything?” Glenn asks.
“No, Rylee was helping me carry the wood out back.”
Glenn nods. “Okay, well, anyway… like I said, Paige has been asking for you. I figure she’s in safe hands here.”
August nods and steps aside, letting Paige in. She marches past me at speed and straight to the kitchen.
“Don’t let her go anywhere, and thank you again for last time.”
August nods before Glenn gives me one last glance as he leaves. When he shuts the door, August turns to me.
“Should I go?” I ask.
“No. Stay,” he says, and I can’t fight the smile that touches my lips as he returns to the kitchen. August goes straight back to cooking while I sit next to Paige on the two stools he has at his kitchen counter.
“Aren’t you even going to look at me?” Paige asks with a hoarse voice, on the verge of tears. “August,” she implores, not able to hold back the tears that well in her eyes and slip over, running down her cheeks.
He places the knife on the counter and faces her, then shakes his head before he goes back to cutting.
“August,” I chastise.
Paige starts sobbing and gets up, excusing herself before she walks away.
“That girl is clearly upset.” He clenches his jaw at my words but doesn’t answer me. “Fine then.” I stand and follow Paige, where she has closed herself off in the bathroom. Knocking, I ask, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is low.
When I open the door, she’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub, covering her face.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure everything will be all right.” I pat her back, leaning in.
“No, it won’t. I knew he would get mad, but I did it anyway.”
“Did what?”
Paige lifts her head, and I see the exact same forest-green eyes as August’s staring back at me.
“I went and saw her, and when I did, well… she’s a drunk, and I guess like mother, like daughter—,” she drifts off, wiping at her tears.
“You got drunk with your mom?” I ask, trying to figure it all out in my mind.
“Yes. August hates her. But she’s our mother. How can he hate her so much when all she talks about is him?”
“Because she’s using that to get to you. Has she asked you yet to start selling? Maybe your body?” August asks, standing in the doorway.
I gape at him, shocked, unable to speak.
“She would never.”
“That there… those few words prove to me you don’t know who she is. Stay away from them, Paige. I mean it. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“She loves us.”
“No, she doesn’t. She loves the idea of using us. That’s all that woman will ever care about,” he says, then steps inside the small space. “Food is ready.”
I nod, getting the message. As I pass by August on my way out, my arm brushes across his.
“You’re all she ever talks about,” Paige says to August as I walk out the door slowly, trying to listen in to the conversation that I know will now ensue.
“She stopped worrying about if I was bathed or not when I was six. She stopped feeding me when I was ten. She never once visited me in prison. No letter. No nothing. Tell me, Paige, does that sound like all the hallmarks of a doting mother?”
“You sound like Dad,” she spits.
“Listen to him. Because…” he pauses for a few seconds then continues, “… he’s right.”
Wanting to give them some privacy, I go and sit on the front porch. It’s then I realize I’m sitting on a wooden chair. The wood, although old in texture, looks brand-new and is sanded to perfection, then stained with something to keep the texture. The legs of the chair are shaped like wooden wheels that sit on a sled-styled bottom. There are two of them with a table in a similar pattern sitting between them.
The chair is unique, stunning, and I love it. The arms seem to have an ornate pattern engraved into the surface, and I can’t help but rub my hands back and forward over the surface of the polished wood.
“I’m sure the chair is enjoying the rubbing you’re giving it.” My hand pauses on the surface of the wood.
“Did you make it?”
August crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles stand out even more.
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t you be covered in tattoos?”
“Why? Because I’ve been away in prison? Is that why you think I should be covered in ink?” He laughs as Paige finally walks out, her tears now dried. “Come on, rich girl, the food is ready,” he says, nodding back to the house.
I can’t help but take another look at the chairs.
“August is gifted,” Paige says, smiling now. She’s obviously proud of her brother’s talent. “What’s going on with you two?”
My phone starts ringing, and I see Anderson’s name flash on the screen. Pressing ignore, I give my attention back to Paige. “Nothing.” I stand and pull my keys from my pocket with a smile. “Tell August I said bye. Sorry, I have to go.”
She nods an
d says nothing more as I get in my car to leave.
August walks outside, glancing over at me in the car. My hands freeze on the wheel, but I manage to drive off, even if my head is screaming at me to go back to him.
Pulling over because I’m starving, I stop to grab some food before I go home and sleep for the rest of the day before dinner with Rhi. As I grab a drink, a woman steps in front of me, blocking my view. I attempt to step around her, and it’s then I can tell it’s the same woman from that night at the party with Anderson. My eyes fall to her belly, which is round. It’s not overly large, but it is more than obvious she is pregnant.
“You’re Rylee, right?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“He told me I wasn’t good enough for him. That we weren’t.” She rubs her belly. “He said you were meant to have his babies, no one else.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I reply, my eyebrows drawn together.
She shakes her head as if trying to remove the vision from her mind. “I’m sorry, that’s all I wanted to say. I didn’t know about you when we hooked up. He told me he was single. And when I found out he wasn’t, I left. Until…” She looks down at her belly, rubbing it again. “Well… until I found out about the baby. And I knew if he lied to me before, about you, well… he would say this baby wasn’t his when I know it is. So I had a DNA test done so he couldn’t deny it.”
“Umm… okay.” I don’t know why she feels the need to tell me all this.
“Look… I know this is weird. But I want you to know that I didn’t know about you.” Tears start to slip from her eyes, falling down her cheeks and dropping onto the front of her dress.
“How old are you?”
She swipes them away, obviously angry she’s letting it all get to her. “Eighteen,” she replies.
Gosh.
Oh my God, she’s closer to my brother’s age than Anderson’s.
“Just don’t—” I cut myself off because I can't tell her what to do. I can’t say that one day he might hurt her as well. It’s simply not my place to do that. So instead, I say, “Good luck, and no hard feelings.” I step around her and give her the best smile I can muster.
Fuck.
Anderson is a real fucking dick.
Chapter 18
August
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Paige asks while I hand her a glass of milk.
“Eat.” She does as I say but continues to stare at me. “Nothing is going on.”
“Funny how your answers are the same.”
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, you know. It’s hard. I’m a girl, August, surrounded by men. Did you know when I got my first period, Dad had to google what to do?” She shivers. “I wanted a mother to help me. I needed a mother, so I could ask all the questions. Instead, I had to resort to a search on the internet.”
“She isn’t a mother, and you should know that.”
“Yeah, but she’s the only one I’ve got.”
I guess it’s different for us. I didn’t need her back then like Paige needs her now. I won’t understand because I’m not a girl, but I’ll try to help her if I can.
“You don’t need her, Paige. I’m sure you have other girls you can talk to. What about Beckham’s mother?”
She coughs and shakes her head. “No, Mrs. Harley is not someone you go to for advice. Rylee, on the other hand…” She smiles up at me. “I’d go to Rylee.”
“Hmm…”
“Rylee is good. I like her. Don’t you?”
“Hmm…” I turn around and start clearing the mess.
“You can’t ignore everything I ask about her, August.”
“I’ll stop ignoring you if you promise never to go to that house again.”
“Josh seems nice,” she says defensively.
I turn fast with cloth in hand.
“No. No, he is not. Stay far away from him, Paige. Do you understand me?”
“Okay, okay!”
“Tell me you will. If you see him, you’ll walk the other way. Promise me.”
She rolls her eyes, but I’m not joking. “Paige,” I bark her name, making her eyes snap up to mine.
“Yes, okay, I get it.”
“Good.”
Rylee messages me twice the following week, warning me she is coming over.
Friend.
That’s how she ends the messages.
Friend.
My dick twitches at the thought of seeing her. Fuck! What I wouldn’t give to throw her over my couch and have her all over again.
What a sweet life that would be.
On Thursday, she rocks up, carrying two bags. Holding the door open for her, she barges in, holding up the bags.
“I ordered us some pizza and dessert. Because people who don’t have dessert after a meal are considered evil, just so you know.” She struts along, her heels clicking on my wooden floors as she goes, dressed in a knee-length skirt and a white blouse. I can see the outline of her bra through it at the top. It’s obviously her work outfit.
“What if I was cooking?”
“Were you?” she bites back. When I don’t answer, she starts pulling the food out of the takeout bags. “Thought so. Now… say thank you, and sit down and have a meal with me.”
“You’re bossy. Is it because you want sex?” I ask, fighting the smirk on my lips.
She pauses her hand and shakes her head infinitesimally. “Why, yes, I do. And you refuse to help with that situation, so here I am,” she says sweetly and puckers her lips. “Being friends.”
“We would never work. Ever,” I tell her, reaching for the pizza she’s pulled out. She slides the box to me and opens up the other, smaller box, which is full of little cakes.
“Why? Because we’re opposites?” she asks, lifting a cheesecake.
“That’s not dinner.”
“Yes, it is. Dessert before boys.” She takes a large bite.
“Yes, we’re opposites, but also because I’m from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“We went to the same school… together,” she points out.
“We did, and not once did we talk or hang out during that time.”
“You never looked my way.”
“No, and it was because I was fucking women, not little girls.” I bite into the pizza while her eyes go wide but she reins herself in.
“Tell me some stories.”
“You want to hear stories about how I fucked the rich mothers?”
“You what?” she says with shock written all over her face.
“Of course I did. I told you I wasn’t good. And those mothers who I was fucking didn’t approve of their kids hanging out with me.”
“Oh, gosh, don’t tell me they were married?”
“And worse.”
“Okay, change of subject, since I know most people in this town. How was prison?” She looks at me eagerly while waiting for me to answer her.
“That’s something I choose to forget. It’s a part of my life I don’t want to relive.”
“Fuck, you’re a hard egg to get information from.”
I smile at her words. “And you have a potty mouth. Does your family know?”
She shrugs. “Only Rhi and Beckham.”
“Do you have other friends?”
“Yes… well, no. I think Shandy is my friend. I like her.”
“The one you work with?”
She nods. “Yep. And you, of course.”
“You want to fuck me. There’s a difference.”
She leans forward. “Is there, though?” Her eyes pinch as she stares at me.
“Would it make you happy if I put you on this table, spread your legs open, and slid right in?”
She pauses mid-bite, resets herself, and then replies, “Yes.” Putting down her cake, she stands. “I’m ready. Throw away,” she says, opening her arms out wide. “I don’t even care if that sounds desperate.”
I can’t help the laughter that bubbles
up from inside me.
Who the fuck is this woman?
And where has she been my entire life?
“Sit down, rich girl. I’m eating.” I wave her off.
Her hands fall to her hips, those dark eyes stealing my breath.
“Nope, that’s unfair.”
“Why don’t you ask Anderson to throw you around?” I ask, recovering from her stare.
She huffs and sits. Reaching for some pizza, she bites and mumbles through a full mouth, “Don’t even get me started on him.”
“Now, you do have me intrigued.”
“No, really… don’t get me started. I wonder if I was dumb, blind, or maybe just stupid,” she says while shaking her head.
“Maybe a little of each one,” I offer.
She pauses and throws the crust of the pizza at me. “I’m none of them, thank you very much.”
“If you say so.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never made a mistake by being with someone before.”
“That isn’t up for discussion.”
“Oh, come on… tell me.”
“No.”
“Fine, whatever. Be a dick, then.”
We finish eating in silence. She checks her phone a few times, then begins to clean the mess. I watch, liking the way she moves around my house dressed in her work clothes, which are too tight for that little body.
“I can feel you watching me.”
I don’t deny nor confirm until she glances over her shoulder and checks me out before she comes back over.
“So, since your sex life and prison life are off the table, what can we walk about?”
“Not me.”
She shakes her head. “This is us, being friends, and me learning more about you.”
“You should really find another friend.”
“But I’ve already invested so much in us.” She tries to fight the smile touching her lips, but she can’t beat it. “What about what you’re working on? Surely you can share that?”
“It’s nothing that would interest you.”
“Oh my gosh, August… just fucking tell me,” she snaps.
“I’ve made four desks for Noah’s office. One for his boss, then a few of his employees, but I have more to make.”
