Absolute Valor (Southern Justice #3)

by Cayce Poponea

  My hand pumps faster as I recalled with perfect clarity the way her fingers played with the straw in her cup, the one she reuses over and over. Her face is always downturned, but when she answers you, her eyes look up in this incredibly sexy way, one she doesn’t control, but comes natural.

  The silver of the shower lever catches my attention. I know I should reach over and kill this bullshit with cold water, but as the coil in my belly increases and the rhythm of my hand is set, I feel the telltale signs of the end coming. Just like every other time, I come hard, with one word grunted into the steam of the tiled room, “Audrey”.

  Clearing the fog off the mirror, the squeaking sound echoing in the room. I needed a haircut, something I’ve grown used to. It’s easy to forget I no longer have to conform to regulations. I may let it go a little longer, until I can figure out if she likes it. Suddenly, I slam my palms on the countertop as Audrey pops into my head, unwelcomed and unrelenting. I have a fucking girlfriend, one who is doing something good for her family. How can I preach to Audrey about her friend treating her poorly when that’s exactly what I’m doing when I think of Audrey, instead of Harmony, as I jack off in the shower?

  From the minute I stepped into boot camp, it became second nature to make my bed in the morning. Harmony has complained a few times when I would straighten my side and leave her sleeping. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her and she couldn’t be bothered to make her side of the bed. She thought many of my routines crazy; like getting up before the sun and running, picking up after myself and going to bed before midnight. She had whined and reminded me my time in the military was over, I should enjoy life, smoke a joint and not be so uptight about everything.

  Maybe she was right, maybe I did need to let loose a little. Ignoring the rumpled sheets and the pulled back comforter, I shoved my wallet and phone into my pockets, and turned to head downstairs. Opening the refrigerator deciding a trip to the grocery store was long overdue. I could count on one hand how often I’ve eaten alone. Growing up in a large family and then joining the military, being by myself wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with.

  Momma had sent a container of leftovers from dinner, but those didn’t make it past getting through my front door last night. I could always talk her into grocery shopping for me, but I knew she would have something to say about Harmony needing to take care of me. I love her to death, but I was tired of having to defend my girlfriend to the family. Closing the refrigerator door, I promised to stop by the store after work, I turned and walked toward the door. My insides quivered, as I thought of the unmade bed upstairs. What if Harmoney came back home and needed to lay down? Releasing the handle, I sprinted back up the steps. I could work on changing habits tomorrow.

  “Can you hand me the three-sixteenths?” My request was met with silence. Looking up in Dylan’s direction, he was lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the wall behind me. He has been this way all morning. When I met up with him at the gym, he was almost half an hour late. When he did show, he forgot his gym clothes. “Hey, Dylan?” I tossed a rag into his face, causing his head to jerk back as his attention is returned.

  “Sorry,” he picks up the rag from the floor, tossing it to the counter behind me. Dylan isn’t the type of guy you call out when he is acting this way. You have to give him time with his thoughts, let him get them in order, and then hold on when he has made up his mind.

  When we were younger, our parents would take us on a working vacation. They felt it was important for us to learn something while having fun doing it. Granddaddy suggested we take a break from it and head down to the Florida Keys to do some fishing. Momma tried to remind us how fortunate we were to have the things we did. Granddaddy stood fast, reminding her of the time she and her girlfriend spent a week in Paris her freshman year of college. She changed the subject as she began planning our Florida vacation.

  About a month prior to us leaving, Dylan came home with a cut on his lip and his shirt torn. He and a guy down the road had been riding dirt bikes when a dog darted into the road directly in their path. Dylan chose hitting the neighbor’s fence instead of the Collie, flipping his bike over and damaging it beyond repair. After a trip to the emergency room and a long talk with our neighbor, Dylan went up to his room to think about the choices he was given about the broken fence.

  Our daddy felt even though it was an accident and he was willing to write Mr. Hupp a check for the damages, the fence was old and had more bad parts than good. He also knew his son and suspected he was going faster than he would admit. My brother spent many days holed up in his room, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. It wasn’t until the day we all climbed into the car to head to the airport when Dylan came out of his room and announced he would not be going to Florida. He spoke with Daddy and Granddaddy, who contacted the local fencing company. Dylan worked alongside the men for three days as they replaced the entire fence.

  “Sorry, man. I’ve been thinking,” shaking his head, his left hand pushed across his forehead and into his hair. Pointing to the socket I need from the cart beside him, he hesitated before handing it to me. “I’m thinking of asking Claire to marry me.”

  This time I’m silent. Of all the things I’d assumed would be running around in his head, this wasn’t even in the top ten.

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. We’ve been together for a while,”

  I’d always assumed my oldest brother would be single forever. With his callous attitude, crass personality and aversion to most relationships, he was the poster child for bachelorhood.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, it’s just…” Dropping the socket to the floor, the clatter is muffled by the slamming of the front door followed by the sound of shuffling feet across the concrete floor.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Audrey’s hurried voice carries across the open space. Her lavender sweater highlights the red hues in her hair, giving her skin a healthy glow. Even frazzled, she is classically beautiful, and ever gracious.

  “I hit traffic by the college.” Her eyes find mine, and then quickly avert to Dylan. “I’ll plan better tomorrow.” Not waiting for a word from either of us, she spins around, takes her seat and begins her day. The faint sound of her mumbling under her breath reaches my ears, but I don’t dare try and assume what she’s saying, it sounds a lot like stupid and idiot.

  Ever since Keena and the stunt she pulled went down, Audrey has been worried she was about to lose her job. Dylan and Austin both reassured her that her job is safe, but Momma still thinks there is something hiding in her eyes. I can’t say I disagree with her, there is something there, but I can’t quite put a finger on it either.

  Glancing back at Dylan, I see he isn’t holding back his amusement of her abruptness. He’s shaking his head back and forth, as his shoulders bounce up and down with his laughter. “As I was about to say,” picking the socket up off the floor, tossing it to the lift holding the bike I’ve been working on. “I’m surprised by you wanting to get married, not by who you’ve chosen. Claire is awesome. I guess I figured you would live together and be one of those couples who never have the piece of paper between you.”

  Dylan looks to where Audrey disappeared then back at me. “First off, I never want to have our Mother come to me and ask why I’m disrespecting Claire by not marrying her. Secondly, I love Claire too much not put a ring on her gorgeous finger, letting every other swinging dick know she’s mine.”

  I raise my hands in surrender, “Hey, you don’t have to justify anything with me. I’ve wanted a wife and family my entire life.” Nearly every girl I’ve dated since I turned eighteen, and perhaps a few before, I’ve considered what it would be like to marry them. Some I was able to check off the list in minutes, while a few others took a little while longer to see the person behind the mask. My mother claimed I was a romantic at heart, covered in a tough exterior. She told me I would fall in love with a wish and a prayer, always with a ring and a church on standby. I guess I�
��m simple like that, convinced true love will always win out and conquer all, like the shit you read about in fairy tales. Maybe that’s what life really is to me, one long drawn out story of how the good ol’ boy from the south rides off into the sunset with his pretty country girl. Having a parade of girls visit my bed had never been something I set out to do, not like Dylan had. I wanted the closeness a relationship brought and the intimacy marriage can have.

  “But there’s more…” I knew Dylan well, once he set his mind to something, he was all in. While I didn’t want to push him, I knew proposing wasn’t a decision he was wrestling with, something else was eating at him.

  Dylan rested his palms against the counter behind him, elbows bent at his sides, “Yeah, there is.” His tone reflected his worry, something Dylan didn’t show often or to many people.

  “Chase, man, what if she can’t see past the man I was?” He’s looking at the floor, shame etched on his face. From the moment I saw my brother for the first time, he has always been larger than life, a confident and fierce kind of guy. Even in some pretty messy situations, he doesn’t let anyone see him sweat. This guy, the one who stands with his head hung low and his worries on his shoulders, is a new man, a better one, and all because of a good woman—one he is proud to stand with, one who is loyal to him and this family.

  “What if she says no?”

  It wasn’t often Dylan came to me for advice, so while I had the opportunity, I was going to help him see what everyone else saw.

  “Do you remember the year Presley Morrison asked you to Sadie Hawkins dance?”

  Dylan had always been a popular guy, it wasn’t surprising to anyone when he made the varsity football team and was chosen as captain, while still a sophomore. Presley Morrison was a freshman with personality to spare. She never met a stranger and had an obsession with the color pink. She was also mentally challenged, yet she never let it keep her from doing anything, including asking Dylan to the dance.

  Dressed head to toe in her signature color, with a blonde wig and tiara on her head; she came strutting up the hall with a picnic basket draped over her arm. She walked up to Dylan, who was having a conversation with some girls’ cleavage, and asked him to have lunch with her on the quad. Priscilla Morgan may not have given birth to Dylan, but he certainly got his big heart from her.

  Dylan took the basket from Presley, extended her his elbow and walked down the crowded hallway with her. With the entire school walking by them, Dylan took a peanut butter sandwich from Presley, something she proudly admitted she had made by herself that morning. With girl after girl walking by them, Dylan Morgan accepted the invitation to be Presley’s date.

  And so, on a Saturday night, in the middle of our barn, Dylan danced with Presley on the makeshift dance floor, under the twinkling lights our momma hung for the occasion. As the dance ended, Dylan walked a wide-eyed and happy young girl back to the arms of her daddy, who was waiting outside the barn door. Dylan could have turned her down, said another girl had already asked him, but he didn’t.

  Dylan swallowed hard, his attention on his boots. “Who could forget Miss Presley?” That following summer, Presley Morrison lost her battle with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. When the treatments, which took what little hair she once had, no longer worked, Presley asked her parents to let her live her final days as a normal high school girl. Dylan stood proud as one of her many pallbearers, leading the line of the fifty football players, who each placed a single pink rose inside her coffin.

  “You were well on your way to the man you are today when Presley set her sights on you. What did you say to her when she asked you?” Dylan had made the princess in Presley spring to life when he jumped to his feet, took her hand in his and said he would be honored to be her date.

  “Hey, I was always respectful with women back then. Especially Presley.” His voice lowered as he spoke her name. “Besides, she was quicker than the other girls. I would have been put in a corner if I would have said no to her and Momma found out.” He turned away from me, we had all known how much Dylan was affected when Presley died. “Boy, you are about to split hell in half with that lie.”

  Granddaddy’s life lessons seem to come to me more and more since his death. When I was younger, I thought they were antiquated and no longer applied to real life—now, I knew better.

  “You’re right to worry, marriage is a huge step, and one you don’t want to jump into too quickly. Spending the rest of your days with the same girl, being there at her worst, eating her burnt suppers with a smile on your face, and listening to her sing off key in the shower to music you hate. Or worse, having to tell her when her clothes are getting a little tight on her when she asks you how she looks.” I motioned for Dylan to join me by the coffee pot, something our granddaddy always did when he had advice to give. When we were little, he would let us sneak chocolate milk, instead of the basic white stuff. He’d even put it in a mug so we could stand beside him as equals. I handed him a cup of black coffee, recalling how granddaddy would frown if you diluted your cup of joe in his presence. You learned fast to get over the bitter taste and chug it down.

  “But you also get to wake up beside one of God’s greatest creations. See her smiling face as she tells you she loves you and kisses you with her sweet lips. How she disappears under the covers and reminds you how much of a man you are to her. The tiny ways she melts your heart and makes you smile. And someday, she will bless you with a mini version of the two of you, another creation to steal your heart from your chest. Dylan, Claire is a smart girl, she chose to be with you for a reason. She chose to ignore all the baggage you pack around on that back of yours. Just as you made Presley’s day when you accepted her request, Claire will take pity on you and give you the answer you hope for.”

  Dylan watched intently as I spoke the words I hoped would set his mind at ease. He was the one who gave out the advice, took charge of the difficult situations and went to bat for us. It felt good to be able to help him this time.

  “When did you get to be so smart, little brother?”

  I didn’t get the chance to answer as Audrey stood in the doorway, clearing her throat like a father at the end of prom night, “sorry, um, there is a Mr. Morrison on line two. He needs to speak with you, Chase.” She didn’t wait to see if I wanted to take the call. Dylan and I exchanged looks, what were the odds the father of the girl we had been talking about calls. Reaching for the receiver, clueless of why he would need to speak with me.

  “Morning, Mr. Morrison. What can I do for ya?” Silence filled the line, causing me to look to the keypad to see if the call had been disconnected. With the red light still glowing, I waited for him to continue.

  “I’m sorry, sir, this is Tyler Morrison with Infinity First credit services. I’m calling in regards to your past due account with us. In accordance with federal and state laws, this call may be monitored or recorded for training purposes.”

  I’m about to hang up, knowing this is a wrong number. I have two credit cards, one is personal and not with this particular company. The second is my military travel card, which I am waiting to surrender at my appointment with my commander next week. At the last second, I hit the speaker button allowing the conversation to be heard in the shop. I was going to have a little fun with the guy on the other end, perhaps give him reason to find an honest job.

  “Infinity? Ain’t that a car company or somethin’?” Dylan looks at me with confusion in his eyes. I smirk at him and mouth, “watch this.” Dylan leans back against the counter, his arms crossed against his chest, amusement has replaced the confusion.

  “Yes, sir. Infinity is a type of car, but also the name of the credit card you opened late last year. According to our records, the account reached the limit we extended to you and we have yet to receive a payment. We are calling you today in an attempt to settle this debt.” Something inside me stirred. Most of last year I spent covered in sand and shit, escorting a medical team through hostile territory. Most of my days were spent keep
ing one eye on mountain ranges and the other on where my gun was pointed. The last thing on my mind was logging onto the internet to shop for low interest credit cards.

  “Let me ask you a real quick question…” Thoughts of having fun with the man slowly faded to black, as memories burst forth of me shoving a nurse face first into the sand as an insurgent tried to make a name for himself by opening fire on the caravan, the big red cross on the side of the truck meaning nothing to him. “How many people do you call on a daily basis, making them think they did something wrong, like forgetting to pay somebody they owe?” Not allowing time for him to respond, my question didn’t really require an answer. “Taking folks’ hard earned money, and then disappearing into the velvet of the night. Well son, you picked the wrong guy to try and scam today. I haven’t been in a position to open any new accounts in a long time. Now, I would appreciate it if you went and got yourself an honest job, so I don’t have to find out where you are and send my police officer brother to arrest your no good ass.”

  I ended the call with a little more force than what was needed. What started out as a joke had escalated into a fire in my belly. I knew where every dime I had went, I also knew Harmony didn’t have access to my accounts, but by the look on Dylan’s face, that was exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t you fucking start. I can see by the look in your eyes, you’re thinking somethin’.”

  Dylan’s face never changed, his eyes giving nothing away. I knew what he was thinking, same damn thing everyone had been trying to say since I brought Harmony to dinner. They didn’t know her like I did—the girl who made me smile when she walked into the door, with a heart so big she needed a bigger body to house it.

  “First off, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Second, that call may or may not be a fake, but ask yourself this; if it was, how the hell did they know to call you here?”