Finding You (Pack Bardot Book 1)

by M. K. Harper

  "What?” I ask, blowing my hair out of my face unattractively. “I’m little, not incapable.” I’m aware my claws are coming out, but my size is a bit of a sore spot for me.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt your capability, Linden. Something tells me that you can do just about anything you set your mind to,” Dax says, stunning me speechless yet again. Another round of awkward staring commences until Chevy drops his Trig book on the counter with a thud. He gives me a look that says even he can feel the sexual tension between Dax and I. Taking the hint, I pull out mine as well and we get to work. Forty-five agonizing minutes later, Mom walks through the door looking slightly disheveled.

  “Sorry! I tried to get out of there as quickly as possible but there’s just so much I have to learn so we couldn’t quit for the day any sooner,” she rushes out. She drops her purse on the kitchen table and plants a kiss on my temple before giving Chev one on his cheek. His eyes widen at the sentiment, looking taken aback. My heart hurts that something so simple seems to be monumental for him. Even with the shitty life Mom and I have been dealt, I never lacked affection. At least not from a mother. She more than made up for my dad’s missing paternal gene.

  “You kids have a good day? How was it, Indy?” I shove back the groan that’s working it’s way up my throat.

  “It was good. Typical high school,” I answer with a smile. I’m sure she can tell it’s fake as hell but she doesn’t call me out on it.

  “Indy?” Dax asks.

  “Oh, that’s just what I call her. I was born and raised in Indiana and wanted to name her after the place that brought me so much joy and love, but her father and I disagreed. So one day I just dropped a few letters of her name and added the ‘y’. Her father despised it but he can just fuck right off. Not everything’s about him.” Chevy chokes on the water he just took a sip of and Dax coughs to cover his smile. Me? Well I’m grinning like a lunatic, silently cheering her on. For so many years, she had to be silent and keep her thoughts about my dad to herself. It’s cathartic to hear her say what she’s thinking or feeling without having to worry about retaliation.

  “So, you wanted a word with me, Mr. Bardot?” Mom turns to give Dax her full attention for the first time and I can see her visibly stiffen. Her back straightens and she steps back a little. The color in her face drains as she takes him in. I want to say she’s as shocked as I was that someone as young and attractive as Dax is a teacher, but she almost looks scared. My brows furrow, confused by her reaction to him.

  “You okay, Mom?” I ask, tentatively taking a step towards her. Her head snaps around so fast I think she might’ve given herself whiplash.

  “Yes!” she answers, much louder than necessary. “Mr. Bardot and I are just going to step out back and chat while you two finish up your studying.” Mom doesn’t wait for Dax, she just walks straight to the sliding glass door and exits without another word. Dax follows her out reluctantly, looking on edge himself.

  “That was a little odd, right?” I ask Chev.

  “Without a doubt...”

  We’re both still staring after them long after they’re out of sight. I try to brush the whole weird moment off and focus on our study material, but it’s still eating away at me half an hour later when neither of them have come back in. I’m tempted to sneak a peek out the window, but I don’t wanna get caught snooping. Almost thirty more minutes pass before I hear the back door slide open. Thank fuck because I’ve almost stress eaten my weight in chips and cookies. They’re both wearing blank expressions, not giving me any inclination as to how it went. All I can do is put in a word with the big man upstairs and hope that Mom agrees and I can dip out of high school a few months early. Glancing over at Chev gives me mixed emotions about that, though. Leaving him at the mercy of Christian after I doused that fire in gasoline just seems cruel. I have no doubt he’ll take all of his anger with me out on Chevy.

  Mom walks Dax to the door, neither of them saying a word. They give each other a nod, and that’s all she wrote. Dax leaves without even a glance back at me. Me and this stupid crush need to get it through our thick heads that this is completely one sided. Mom walks back to the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of wine. She grabs a glass and heads for her room, so lost in thought that she doesn’t pay any attention to me or Chevy.

  “Mom?” She’s almost to her door when I call out to her. She turns back to me, finally snapping out of it. “Everything okay?” I ask her, traces of worry evident in my voice.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just been a long day.” She smiles sweetly at me. “I’m gonna turn in early. You two eat something more substantial than that crap, okay?” She gestures towards the island that’s now littered with half eaten packages of junk. She’s concerned about what I’m eating so she obviously wasn’t body snatched during the hour her and Dax disappeared. That eases some of the tension from me.

  “I was just about to order a pizza,” I tell her.

  “Alright. Love you, Inds.” Her eyes glisten, emotion laced in every word. I want to go to her and ask what’s wrong, but I know it’s not the time. Maybe it’s just work stuff or simply being overwhelmed with being the one who gets to call all the shots now. Either way, I’ll let her hole up in her room for the night and work through whatever she’s feeling on her own. Chevy and I nearly finish off an entire pizza before he hugs me goodnight and tells me he’ll see me in the morning. After I shower and brush my teeth, I lay staring at my ceiling for so long I begin to wonder if I’ll even be able to sleep tonight. As much as I want to give my mom space, her behavior after talking to Dax has me on edge. I just need to see that she’s okay. Padding through the silent house, I open her door quietly. She’s softly snoring, a half empty glass of wine on her nightstand. I slip under the covers beside her and immediately feel content. My eyes grow heavy in no time and sleep finally finds me.

  Chapter 9

  Incessant beeping wakes me after what feels like only minutes of sleep. With a groan, I toss back the covers. The other side of the bed is empty so Mom must be up already. Once I’m dressed and semi presentable I head for the kitchen. No amount of coffee is going to make the dark circles under my eyes disappear.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. Have a nightmare and need your Mama?” she picks at me. I don’t even buy it because we both know that sleeping next to one another has brought us comfort on more nights than I can count. If we were together, we knew each other was safe.

  “You truly missed your calling as a comedian, Mother. Not too late for a career change. New town, new life, boo!” I say with a flourish. We share a laugh and then start gathering our stuff so we aren’t late.

  “Could you drop me by work this morning? I need to get a head start on filing some floor plans,” she asks.

  “Of course.” A few minutes later, Mom’s directing me through town to her office.

  “I was thinking we could go shopping this afternoon? I think you deserve a fresh start here. What better way than with a whole new wardrobe?” She’s typing away on her phone as I steal a glance her way. I look down at my clothes. Ripped boyfriend jeans, an off-the-shoulder oversized black sweater and my black chucks. Is she trying to say something about my style?

  “I like my clothes,” I say a tad defensively. “Besides, that’s money we don’t need to spend.”

  “Nonsense. I want to do this for you, Linden.” There she goes again with using my whole name. Who am I to deny the woman her right to blow money on her daughter? Even if it feels like this is coming from way out of left field.

  “Okayyy...” I say slowly. She’s still preoccupied with her phone, so I decide to take the opportunity to find out how her talk went with Dax last night.

  “So, do you agree with Dax about my course load?” I ask hopefully.

  “Dax?” Her full attention is on me now. Shit. That just sort of slipped out.

  “I mean Mr. Bardot. So, what do you think of me graduating early? I could work full time until fall rolls around and then enroll in the local tech school.” I hastily stee
r us away from that train wreck waiting to happen and back to the topic at hand.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks, confusion marring her face.

  “Wait. Mr. Bardot stopped by to talk about my credits and me possibly graduating early, right?” My hands tighten on the steering wheel as we pull into the parking lot of Payson Home Designs.

  “Oh, that. We touched on it briefly,” she answers, gathering up her bag as quickly as possible.

  “Briefly? Then what in the world did y’all spend an hour talking about in the backyard?” My anger is making itself known. What the hell is going on? Dax specifically told me he needed to speak with her about my academic standing and now I find out they barely even talked about it? None of this makes sense.

  “Nothing you need to worry about. Just standard new student information he needed to relay. Upcoming meetings and such.” Her answer is as vague as they come. I can tell she’s lying because she won’t look me in the eye and she’s scrambling to get out of the truck like her ass is on fire. I just sit there, watching as she becomes more flustered by the second. Just as she’s about to shut the door, she pauses and finally looks up at me.

  “Be careful, Indy.” Her warning seems specific, raising all my internal alarms.

  “What’s going on, Mom? Do you think he knows where we are? Are you in danger?” Panic rushes through my veins like ice. How could that be possible? We’ve only been here a few days. We covered our tracks and took desolate roads just to avoid any highway cameras or being pulled over and having our information ran.

  “No sweetie, nothing like that. Just a general be careful. Mothers tend to worry, ya know?” I should feel a sense of relief, but I don’t. I know she’s keeping something from me, I just don’t know what exactly. But I do know the person I need to speak with to start getting some answers.

  By the time I walk into first period, I’m ready to go twelve rounds in a ring with Dax if need be. Lucky for him, we have an audience for the first ninety minutes. I do, however, give him a rather pissed off glare as I make my way to the empty seat beside Chevy. Class drags on at a snails pace. Every time my eyes lock with Dax’s I make sure he knows him and I will be having words with a simple look. When the bell finally rings, I’m worked up and determined not to leave without some clue as to why the hell he lied about his reason for needing to speak with my mom and what he actually talked to her about.

  “Girl, what has your panties in a bunch?” Chevy asks as we pack up our Econ books and notes from today’s lesson. “You’ve had this ‘don’t fuck with me’ look plastered on your face since you walked through the door.”

  “It’s nothing,” I grunt. “I just need to speak with Teach over there.” I nod in the direction of Dax, where surprise, surprise! Tits McGee is already occupying his personal space. White, hot anger washes over me. I’m seconds from doing something incredibly stupid when Dax happens to look up and meets my hard gaze. He dismisses Allana without a second thought. That naive little girl who lives inside of me throws a fucking party, reading way too far into the whole ordeal than she should be. With a parting ‘fuck-you’ sneer aimed my way, she reluctantly leaves the room.

  “Good luck with that,” Chev says, following the last few stragglers into the hall. When no one else is left, I march my ass down to Dax and summon all of my scariness front and center. It’s showtime, bitches.

  “So, what did my mom have to say about me graduating early? Or dropping your class?” I question him, hoping he’ll offer up an explanation that makes sense.

  “Not a lot,” he replies.

  “She didn’t say a lot, or you didn’t say a lot? Because she seemed to be a bit clueless about any of it.” I want to scream at him but somehow manage to rein it in. This is already so far outside of any normal student-teacher conversation I’ve ever been a part of.

  “We touched on it, but I didn’t go into detail. I’m still waiting for the rest of your transcripts.” He’s so calm and collected and it only infuriates me more.

  “What the hell, Dax?!” I growl. “What was so important that you needed to come to my home to speak with my mom about, if not that? Is it even true that I could graduate early?” My hands are clenched into fists. I don’t understand why he would tell me that, get my damn hopes up, just to use it as a reason to speak to Mom. He’s my teacher, does he really need a reason? The whole thing is suspect as fuck.

  “Mr. Bardot,” he says sternly. “It has to be Mr. Bardot here, Linden. And as for the reason behind my visit yesterday, it was just a standard meet-the-parent so I could pass along pertinent information.” I snort in disbelief. He’s giving me the same vague ass answer my mom did.

  “I think it should be Mr. Bardot everywhere from now on.” I don’t wait for a response, I just leave. Whatever the two of them discussed yesterday, their lips are sealed tight. The rest of the morning my emotions run hot. I hate knowing that Mom is lying to me. Her and I have always told each other everything, it’s why our relationship is so solid. Maybe I’m overreacting and I should just let it go, but my gut is telling me something fishy is going on. When Chevy puts me on the spot at lunch, I’m all too eager to get his take on it.

  “Spill. You’ve been a bitch all morning, and don’t try to pass it off as Flo. I already looked at your phone calendar, it’s not time for your little friend yet,” he states, taking a big bite of his cheeseburger.

  “We’re gonna circle back to you snooping through my phone to find out when my next period is due, but first I need your opinion on something.” I narrow my eyes at him, wondering how in the hell he unlocked my phone when I use a thumb print scanner. “Okay, so yesterday Mr. Bardot asked me to stay after class. Remember?” Chev nods. “Well he told me that I have enough credits so I don’t really need his class, and possibly enough to even graduate early.”

  “You lucky bitch...” he grumbles, hoovering fries into his mouth.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought as well. When Mr. Bardot stopped by last night, I figured he was there to speak with my mom about it. But when I asked her this morning what she thought she acted like she didn’t really know what I was talking about. She wouldn’t look at me, which is her tell that she’s lying. So I confronted Mr. Bardot after class this morning. He gave me the same bullshit answer she did and said he was still waiting to look over the rest of my transcripts and it was just a simple meet-and-greet to pass along information.”

  “I’m sorry, what’s the problem? Have you considered that they’re both telling the truth? Maybe he just didn’t want to say anything to your mom about graduating early until he knew for certain.” I hate that he’s making sense, because I know there’s more to it.

  “Then couldn’t he have just called her? If the meeting was so typical and no big deal, why in the hell would he waste two hours at our house?” Make sense of that, you sleuth! The conversations taking place in my head are starting to become worrisome.

  “Look, Mr. Bardot is a good teacher and this is a small town. Maybe he just wanted to be polite and formally introduce himself in person. Or...” he trails off.

  “Or what?!” I’m on the edge of my seat.

  “Or he might just have the hots for your mom since you’re jailbait,” he shrugs. I think I throw up in my mouth a little. I refuse to believe that. Still, that little inkling of ‘what if’ has dread filling me. I think if I had to watch my mother date the only man that has ever invoked such a raw, emotional and physical reaction from me, I might die. It’d shred my heart to pieces. Washing that image from my mind with some metaphorical bleach, I focus on scarfing down my food. I’m certain Chev can sense the shift in me after he dropped that little bomb, but he keeps quiet.

  After school, Mom and I head into town to check out a few boutiques. Most of the clothes they carry aren’t really my style, but I entertain her nonetheless and try on a few pieces. The little black dress she picked out hugs my curves in all the right places, flattering my small frame. Paired with the dainty heels she shoved at me, I fe
el like a knockout. This is the kind of dress that turns heads, and a head turner I have never been. I feel completely exposed, but I also feel a confidence I’ve never had before. We hit every store we can find, spending so much money it‘s starting to make me nauseous. Just the other day she was saying how we needed to save as much money as possible for a while, and now, out of the blue, she’s revamping my wardrobe for no particular reason. Every time she heads for the register, she sends me off to look at something across the store that she’s just dying for me to see. I’m not stupid, I know she’s trying to keep me from seeing the total, but I can fucking math. I’ve been tallying the prices up in my head and we’re well past a couple hundred dollars. I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut, though. Apparently we’re keeping shit from each other now.

  Chapter 10

  The rest of the week goes by without any more drama. I avoid Mr. Bardot like the plague. Any time I find myself fixating on the way his pants hug his ass or when his shirt rides up just enough to catch a glimpse of his taut, sun kissed skin, I give myself a mental bitch slap. I’ll beat this damn crush out of myself if I have to. I’ve caught him staring back at me more than a few times. He’s always wearing this look I can’t quite figure out.

  Mom’s still acting a little weird and it has me stressed out. So much so, that it’s been hard to think straight since Tuesday. I’ll most likely bomb the Trig test I have later today. I keep trying to rationalize her behavior. To come up with some sort of plausible explanation as to why she seems to be constantly looking over her shoulder. Our first few days here were bliss. She was an entirely different person, carefree in a way that I’ve never seen her before. I don’t know if it’s just the paranoia from years of abuse and it’s just ingrained in her to be so weary of anyone and everyone, but I have this feeling that won’t go away, no matter how many times I try to convince myself that I’m just reading too much into the situation. I know that a lifetime of trauma isn’t going to go away overnight. Truthfully, we both need to talk to someone. Like a professional. There’s so much shit I’ve repressed over the years so I wouldn’t fall into a pit of guilt and despair. I know I’m going to have to face it all one day, though. Still, it feels like something specific set her off and made her become hyper paranoid again.