“Baby, you drive my kid around with you. You’ve done so much more for me than you ever can realize. Please, just let me have this,” he said, coming to a stop right next to the shiny blue door handle.
A blue that I’d had on my Pinterest board for years.
“When I was sixteen, this was the truck that I always dreamed I’d have,” I whispered. “I wanted a new Dodge with a Cummins Turbo Diesel in it. I wanted black leather seats and bright shiny lights all over the place. A big bumper that screamed ‘get out of my way’ and four-wheel drive that I’d never use but was handy to have anyway.” I swallowed hard. “I wanted a man that would love me for me. I wanted a job that I’d love, too. I wanted a baby that preferred me over her daddy.”
I burst into tears.
“Baby, why are you crying?” He sounded ravaged.
“Because you gave me all of those things, and I didn’t even have to say please!” I cried.
He clicked the locks on the truck and then opened the back door wide. Moments later, I found myself in his arms, in the back seat of my truck, hugging the crap out of him.
Then he was kissing me, and I forgot why I was upset.
Bayou had a way of doing that, though. Changing my life. Making me forget.
Doing things that I never thought I’d be doing, ever.
And soon, when the kissing progressed to other things, like touching and fondling, I let it happen, too.
Why? Because I was impossibly in love with the man, and my brain turned to scrambled eggs any time he was around.
What had started out as him comforting me as I’d cried had turned into a full-on ‘we’re about to do it in my brand-new truck’ session.
It wasn’t but a few seconds later that I was sprawled out on the buttery leather seats of my new truck with Bayou on top of me, pressing the tip of his cock into me. Things went fast from there. One second, he was fucking me softly, and the next we were rocking the entire truck with our lovemaking.
And when he came, I followed, unable to stop myself.
“You need to pray that we don’t get anything nefarious on the brand-new seats of this truck,” I whispered through labored breaths.
Bayou looked up and took stock of what was in the truck. “They gave me a new t-shirt. We can use that.”
He reached forward to the front seat and snagged it with his fingers, and that was when I saw that the entire cab was fogged up.
“Wow,” I said softly. “That’s not obvious or anything.”
He snorted and tossed the t-shirt my way.
“Wow, this is nice and soft,” I said as I reached for the fabric between us and tried to minimize the effects of his retreat.
I managed, but only barely.
When he sat up, I did my best to clean up and then folded the shirt in on itself.
Once I had my panties back on, he pulled me out of the truck, then settled me right back in it, this time in the front seat. “Put your foot on the brake and start it back up.”
I did and felt my soul sing. “Jesus Christ. You put a supercharger on it.”
He grinned. “I put a supercharger on it.”
That was when I threw myself at him a second time. “God, Bayou. Why did you do this for me? It had to cost an arm and a leg.”
“Look in the glovebox,” he ordered, patting my ass.
I reluctantly let him go, then turned in my seat.
I could feel him hot at my back as I leaned over the center console to the glovebox. Popping the door open, I stopped when I saw one lone thing in it—a little black box covered in velvet.
With shaking hands, I reached for it and pulled it into my lap.
My head turned to where Bayou had once been standing, only to find him gone.
I frowned and turned my hips in the seat to look for him, only to find him down on one knee beside the truck.
I blindly reached forward and shut the truck off. The moment that I did, the silence became so thick that I could’ve cut it with a knife.
“When you were fifteen, I bet you didn’t have any idea in the world that you’d changed my life,” he said softly. “I bet you really didn’t think about the consequences of treating a young man like me like a normal, down to earth human being. But, whether you knew it or not, you changed my life. You made me think.” He licked his lips. “I kept telling myself over the next year, if she thinks I’m normal…if she thinks I’m worth saving…if she thinks that I can do it…then I can do it. I am normal. I am worth saving.”
I felt my throat start to close at his words, and the box on my thigh felt like it was burning a hole straight through my jeans.
“I spent the next year becoming the person that I wanted to be. Fixing what wasn’t broken. And knowing in my heart that the moment that I saw you again, I’d tell you that you were beautiful,” he said. “And then life happened. I moved on, growing into the man that I’d one day become. The man that you see in front of you right now. But not one second over the years did I stop thinking about you,” I said. “Then your sister moved in next door. You applied for the job where I happened to work. And I knew that, no matter what, I wasn’t going to be able to fight it any longer. You’re mine, and fate found a way to bring you back to me again.”
I swallowed hard, this time with tears steadily streaming down my cheeks.
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure when they started, but I was unable to control them at this point.
“I’m sure you’re thinking that it’s too soon,” he continued. “That we’ve only been together for a short time, and that I have too much on my plate.” He paused, this time his eyes coming directly to mine. “It’s not too soon. I’ve wanted you, needed you, for a very long time. And I know that you feel the same.”
That was true. I hadn’t been able to forget him at all over the years, even though I’d done my best to try.
Who falls in love with a person in just a few hours, and stays in love with him for years?
I did.
Before he could continue, I hopped down and then tackled him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
He laughed as we hit the ground, me on top of him.
“Yes,” he answered swiftly. “That was what I was getting at.”
“I do.”
“You do?” he teased, his eyes shining. “I haven’t even told you that you’d be a perfect mother for Isa. I had this all planned out.”
I pressed my lips to his. “I will. I’ll be the best goddamn mother in the history of mothers.” I paused. “But you’re gonna have to discipline her if she does something really bad. I’m no good with tears.”
He snorted. “Neither am I.” He wiped the tears that were still streaming down my face. “Even when they’re happy tears like yours.”
I pressed my face to his, and then let my forehead rest on his bearded chin. “You also have to promise never to shave this off, or we’re going to have to file for divorce.”
His chest shook with laughter. “Promise, honey. I don’t plan on it.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. Then started to freak out.
“Oh, shit,” I said as I backpedaled off of him and started to search the darkness for a little black box. “Do you have your phone on you? I dropped the box.”
He sat up on his butt in the grass, then pulled out his phone and turned the flashlight app on. It took a little time, but we finally found the hastily dropped box by the tire, and I scrambled for it.
With my ass in the air, I pulled the black box out and whipped around to hand it to him. “Now, put it on me.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet. What if you hate the ring?” he asked.
This time he actually did look nervous.
“Anything that you gave me, Bayou, I wouldn’t hate,” I told him bluntly.
“Fancy,” he breathed. “You undo me.”
Then he opened the box, and I saw the ring and dropped down to my knees at his side.
&n
bsp; With the flashlight shining on it, I could make it all out and felt my throat once again tighten.
“Bayou,” I choked.
He pulled the ring out with large, fumbling fingers, and then reached for my hand.
“I saw this ring a couple of years ago,” he said. “I bought it while I was deployed. Cost me a shit ton of money that I didn’t have, but the moment that I saw it, I knew it’d look good on you.” He paused. “It’s not your typical engagement ring.”
I held my left hand out to him. “Put it on me!”
He did, and the moment that it slid into place, it felt like it was made to be there.
“In some cultures, the hummingbird is known as the messenger and stopper of time,” he said, voice rough. “It’s a symbol of love, joy, and beauty. The only bird species that can fly backward and that can stop dead while traveling at full speed.” He leaned forward and twisted the ring on my finger so that I could see the intricate details. “That hummingbird for me is you. You’re my Fancy. The girl that allows me to look upon my past and see that it was important but didn’t define me. You bring me love, joy, and beauty where I thought that there was only darkness. You’re one thing that can stop me in my tracks when my mind is traveling full speed ahead.”
My eyes took in the details of the ring. It was a simple silver ring—at least at first glance. But the more that you looked at it, the better you could see the hummingbirds flitting around the flowers among the swirls and the lines. They were so expertly hidden that unless you knew that they were there, you wouldn’t actually see them. Kind of like the bird in real life. Sometimes the only way you knew a hummingbird was there was when you stopped and watched.
“I love it, Bayou,” I whispered. “God, I love it.”
And I did. There wasn’t a single thing that I’d change. It was the perfect engagement ring.
He seemed to breathe easier at my words. “Good. Good.”
I looked up to find him staring at me, and not the ring like he had been.
There were no fancy diamonds on this ring. There were no intricately cut stones at all.
What there was, was a perfect reminder that the man in front of me was the man for me.
I threw my arms once more around his neck and crawled up into his lap.
He wrapped me up in his strong arms, and I didn’t care that we were so new that it might hurt our chances of surviving. He was right. We were different. What we had was so different that nobody but us would be able to understand.
That was when I heard my sister’s excited laugh from the doorway.
I looked up to see everyone pouring out of the house.
“You know,” Zee said as he came up to us. “You told us you were going to propose to her at the truck. You didn’t tell us that we’d need to give you fifteen minutes before you did, otherwise, we probably wouldn’t have been gathered around the windows watching.”
My face flamed. Literally burst into flames.
“Well Fancy, I see that you like your truck,” Liner teased, sounding just as tired as he looked.
I flipped him off. “Fuck you.”
He grinned, and it completely transformed his tired face. “Thatta girl.”
“Knew he could convince you,” Castiel said. “Just didn’t realize he was going to convince you by doing you in it…that’s not our president.”
Zee, who’d been on Castiel’s other side, started laughing.
If it was possible for my face to get any redder, it did in that moment.
But the funny thing was that nobody cared that we’d done it in the truck while they were all watching. They cared that I made their president happy, and that was the only thing that mattered.
“Did you know that he asked Dad for permission?” Pru whispered.
My head whipped around. “He did?”
She nodded. “I was there when he did. It was after dinner. After he got his face busted in. Dad gave him a really hard time, but ultimately said yes, as long as he promised to always put you first.”
I looked over at Bayou, who had an awful-looking bruise on his face. The stitches above his eye were still there and would be for another week. But all I saw was the most handsome man on Earth.
“Good. I’d hate to have to disown my family because they couldn’t accept him,” I teased.
Pru’s eyes went wide. “We’d never send away the one thing that makes you happier than chocolate and books, Fancy.”
I grinned wide. “Good. I’d hate to have to kill you.”
“We’re all so happy for you,” Pru expressed, slowly turning the ring around on my finger.
I smiled and turned my face to survey the room, but my gaze stalled on one face that didn’t look happy at all. “Brielle’s not.”
Pru’s gaze followed mine. “Brielle will get over it.”
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
I didn’t really care.
Chapter 18
I don’t have a squad, but I know about 4 or 5 people that don’t want me to die.
-Phoebe to Bayou
Bayou
“Don’t brag about how good you can cook. Men eat three-day-old pizza. Impress them with anal sex.”
The wise words just kept coming.
“And, when you have him where you want him, sit on your man’s face,” the old lady declared. “Waterboard him with your pussy.”
I didn’t know who the woman was to Phoebe, or why she was talking so openly with her, but I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at all the advice—some of it even good at that—that she was getting.
“Who is this woman?” I murmured low.
Phoebe’s eyes were shining. “I don’t know. I just met her today.”
We were at work, and this woman had met us outside. I’d stopped with Phoebe because it’d looked like she’d known the woman with how the woman had come straight up to her and started talking.
“Well, ma’am,” I said, tightening my hand on Phoebe’s wrist. “We have to get to work. Have a good one.”
The woman waved, then stepped back into line next to another woman not much younger than herself.
“I didn’t know that it was normal for random women to come up to other random women outside of a prison and tell them things that they probably shouldn’t be telling anybody but their significant others,” I teased.
Phoebe’s eyes shone with laughter. “She had some pretty good suggestions. You don’t want to be waterboarded with my pussy?”
The thought of her sitting on my face was quite the image.
But, since we were entering the front doors of the prison, where we would soon be in an entirely unsafe domain, I didn’t rise to the bait.
Instead, I put my game face on.
“It’s creepy how you practically change the moment you walk in this door. You’re so serious,” she teased.
I looked down at her and said, “If I’m not serious, then they think it’s okay to do what they want…and it’s not.” I paused. “And the state is here. About to leave from what I can tell. They’ve found nothing, according to my guards. If they can successfully leave in the next twenty minutes without any incidents, then I won’t have to deal with them for another year.”
Her snort had a grin kicking up the corner of my mouth. A grin that slid off the moment that I continued to walk through the front door.
There were a lot of people here for family day. More than there ever was.
Though, that likely had to do with the fact that family day had been canceled twice now due to riots and or fights that had broken out over the last couple of weeks.
Family day was a privilege. If the inmate population didn’t cooperate with me, then I wasn’t willing to give them anything for their bad behavior.
“There are a lot of people here,” Phoebe breathed.
“Yeah,” I said. “This is the first family day in three weeks.”
She made a sound under her breath.<
br />
I tugged on her hand and made my way to the front of the line, nodding my head at Wheeler, who was manning the first station that checked bags and personal belongings.
Everyone, even me, went through the entire process as they got into the building.
First, belongings were checked and tickets were given out for when they left and wanted to reclaim their items. Second, they went through a metal detector. Third, they went through the pat down.
Finally, they were allowed inside only after they passed through all three stations.
From there they were all allowed into a room that was separated by a bullet-proof, riot-proof, clear plexiglass-type barrier. Stations were all set up that had phones on either side of the station connected to long wires. There weren’t any chairs, though. At least not on the inmates’ end. The good end got stools.
There definitely weren’t enough stations for the number of people that were here, though.
“Boss,” Wheeler said, nodding his head. “Got anything for me?”
I didn’t. “Nope.”
“What about you, darlin’?” Wheeler asked Phoebe.
“I have some stuff you can check since I’m the one that’s been standing in line for the last thirty-four minutes,” a snotty woman who looked like she had seen a hard life said.
I gave her a look. “You’re also not staff here, so do with that what you will.”
The woman’s lip curled up, revealing stained, chipped teeth.
“I pay my taxes.” She sniffed.
“I—”
Phoebe interrupted us. “I don’t, Wheeler. Thank you.”
It was honestly easier not to bring anything in. The only thing I brought in with me were my keys and phone. Everything else I left outside in my saddlebags—and more recently, my truck.
“Bitch.”
I stiffened all over again and was about to respond to the rude cow of a woman a second time when Phoebe clenched her hand onto mine and announced loudly, for all three guards at each station to hear, say, “Bayou and I are engaged!”
I felt something in my chest soar at the excitement in her words.
I also liked the fact that each of my guards were fucking happy about it.
“Well, then.” Wheeler grinned as he gestured us to move along. “That right there deserves some cake in the breakroom, right?”
One Chance, Fancy Page 18
