Justice (Creed Brothers Book 1)

by K. C. Lynn

  Hannah looks around the table, her face falling. “It’s not a nice name, is it?”

  I shake my head. “No, honey. It’s not.”

  “Why would he say that about Papa?”

  I think of a way to explain it to her, in a way she can understand, but how can anyone understand that kind of hate? Especially a child.

  “Come here, Hannah J.,” Thatcher calls her over, not looking nearly as upset as the rest of us. He brings her up on his lap, her arm curling around his neck as she peers up at him. “Some people can be ugly in this world, but you know what?”

  “What?”

  “They don’t matter,” he says, tapping her chest. “Miss Gwen and I had a great time last night, so did my family, and we’re all that matters.”

  “I don’t understand why he was upset about it though. Why does he care if you dance with Miss Gwen?”

  “Because our skin color is different,” he explains, being completely blunt, “and well, he don’t like mine.”

  Hannah frowns, confusion masking her sweet face. “Why not? What does that matter?”

  “It doesn’t,” I say firmly. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you. What that man said last night was mean and it was wrong.”

  She looks back up at Thatcher, her bottom lip quivering with emotion. “I’m sorry someone said something mean about you.”

  “Don’t be sorry for me, child. It’s his problem, not mine. I got all the love I need right here. Just look at my boys”—he points to Justice and his brothers—“they don’t have my skin color but they are still my sons.” His voice is strong and sure, filled with so much love. “Just like you are my granddaughter.”

  Hannah rests her small hand on the side of his face. “I think your skin is beautiful and I’m glad you’re my papa.”

  Her sweet words have me close to breaking out into a blubbering mess.

  “Oh, Hannah J.,” Thatcher says, emotion strong in his voice but his smile big. “That’s because your heart is beautiful, and you want to know what is stronger than hate?”

  “What?” she asks, sniffling.

  “Love. Love is blind and knows no color,” he says, his wisdom filling all of our hearts. “We are family and nothing will ever change that.”

  Hannah wraps her arms around his neck, turning her face into his shoulder. “I love you, Papa.”

  “And I love you, Hannah J.”

  Despite the tears rolling down my face, I smile, proud of my daughter for turning something so hateful into something so beautiful.

  *

  Hours later, we all sit out on the porch, enjoying the beautiful summer afternoon. Justice and his brothers sit amongst each other disassembling guns and rebuilding for better performance, or so they explained.

  Thatcher plays his harmonica, his eyes shielded with black sunglasses, foot tapping and body rocking to the soulful melody that pours from him. Hannah wears matching sunglasses, a wooden spoon raised to her mouth as she sings to his tune. “I got the blues!”

  “That’s right! Sing it, girl,” Thatcher tells her. “Tell us how blue you are.”

  “I got the very sad blues.”

  Braxten and I chuckle while Knox and Justice wear a smirk. Even though she struggles with the lyrics, she doesn’t let that stop her and follows Thatcher’s lead. I look around at the group of us, a warm feeling weaving into my heart that I’ve never felt before. A sense of rightness.

  I now realize why Justice wants us all here together, because there is no greater feeling than this. Than being surrounded by people you love and who love you in return. Something I never had until now.

  “Papa, how come you’re missing fingers?” Hannah asks when there is a break between songs.

  We all pause, our attention shifting to Thatcher.

  I’ve often wondered the same thing, along with the various scars I’ve witnessed from time to time, whether it’s a subtle shift of his shirt or his mangled hand. One weekend when he stayed with the two of us, I walked by his room as he was getting dressed and it was then I saw the rest of them. The scars on his hand and arms are nothing compared to the ones that mar his torso.

  Thatcher tackles the question with a flippant answer. “Oh, you know, just an unfortunate circumstance.”

  “What happened?” she questions further.

  When he remains silent, Braxten cuts in, “Good luck, kid. We’ve been asking that same question for years.”

  I frown, surprised to find out that not even the boys know.

  “Some things are better left unknown,” he says, leaving the conversation at that.

  Any more talk comes to an end when an expensive black car drives down the long gravel road, approaching the house.

  The vehicle has Justice pushing to his feet. “Dad, take Hannah inside.”

  Thatcher does so and quickly, scooping Hannah into his arms and walking into the house before I can even speak a word.

  “Justice, who is it?” I ask, wondering who has him so on edge.

  “You should go inside, too.” The look he gives me has my pulse skipping nervously.

  I remain exactly where I am, my eyes darting back to the car as it comes to a stop. When the blonde woman steps out, my heart plummets straight to my stomach.

  My mother.

  By her upturned nose and pinched expression I can tell nothing has changed, not that I expected it to.

  Although I’ve been waiting for this visit, I still find myself unprepared, my nerves pinning me to the swing where I sit.

  Justice starts down the stairs, his brothers following as they block her view of me. “You’re not welcome here,” he says. “Leave now.”

  “Not until I speak with her.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Today is not the day to mess with me, Mr. Creed.”

  Braxten snorts at the threat.

  I finally snap into myself and stand, saving them from her wrath. “It’s fine, Justice.” My feet start forward, forcing me down the steps.

  “You don’t have to see her, Ryanne.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder, sliding in-between him and Knox. “It’s okay,” I assure him before turning to face her. “What do you want, Mother?”

  She whips her designer sunglasses off, her eyes filled with fury. “How dare you,” she sneers. “How dare you show your face here after all these years.”

  “I have every right to be here.”

  “The hell you do!”

  “This is my family,” I tell her, feeling confident as I make that statement with the men I have surrounding me.

  She flicks a disgusted glance at them all. “Family? Is that what you call it nowadays. Do you even know which one the father is?”

  “Watch it, lady.” Justice steps forward but I place my hand on his chest, refusing to let him fight this for me. This is my battle and I’m going to end it once and for all.

  “I know exactly whose it is and so do you. I’m sure you and father have always known.”

  I have no doubt they know exactly where I’ve been this whole time, too. There is no way they wouldn’t with their resources. They just didn’t care because I was far enough away not to taint their precious reputation.

  “Hannah and I are back and you’re just going to have to deal with it,” I say, proud of myself for how steady my voice is. “Winchester is a big town. We’ll stay out of your way and you stay out of ours.”

  Her expression twists with anger as she points a finger in my face. “You listen to me, you little bitch, it’s one thing for you to run off but I will not let you come back here to hide out on this nigger’s land with that bastard child.”

  I flinch, the insult fueling rage to spark within me. Justice reaches for her but I’m quicker. With a closed fist I strike out, connecting with the side of her face.

  Her head snaps to the side, the loud pop echoing through the air as shock registers on her face.

  “Don’t you ever speak about my daughter or Thatcher that way!” Tears for
m in my eyes, the comment hurting me as much as it enrages me. “You are never to come near me or my family again,” I scream, the words trailing off into a choked sob.

  Justice turns me around, pulling me against him. “Get her out of here, now!”

  Braxten’s already moving for her, grabbing her arm.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” My mother sputters furiously. “Get your hands off me right this instant.”

  He makes no move to oblige, continuing to drag her to her car where Knox stands holding the door open for him.

  “Leave, Ryanne!” she yells, struggling against Braxten’s hold. “Do you hear me? You leave now or else—”

  Whatever she says next is cut off when Braxten pushes her into her car and slams the door in her face, leaving her with no other choice but to drive away.

  “God I hate her,” I whisper, watching the tail end of her car disappear. “I hate her so much.”

  Justice tilts my face up to his, anger prominent in his dark eyes. “Forget her. She doesn’t matter, she never has. You, me, and Hannah, we’re all that matters.”

  He’s right and I know it, but for some reason, even after all these years, she still gets to me, hurts me so deeply.

  “That was a nice right hook,” Braxten comments, walking back over to us with Knox in tow.

  “Thanks for getting rid of her,” I say with a sniffle.

  “I would have done it sooner but I was praying you were gonna hit her since we can’t.”

  A sad smile cracks my lips. “I’m sorry for what she said,” I whisper to them all.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” Justice says, his expression soft as his fingers brush my cheek.

  I lean into his touch; grateful he was here with me. That they all were. The way they had my back means more than they could possibly know.

  A vibration penetrates the air. Justice reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He looks at the screen before placing it up to his ear. “Clemson, what’s up?”

  When his gaze moves to his brothers, they circle in closer.

  “We’ll be there.” He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket. “That was Craig. He found something. He wants us to meet him at the abandoned warehouse on Old Miller Road.”

  “That’s forty minutes away,” Braxten says. “Why so far?”

  “I don’t know, but it sounds like whatever he has for us is big.”

  “Let’s go,” Knox says, pushing forward. “I’ll drive.”

  Braxten follows while Justice hesitates, looking down at me.

  “Go,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He leans down, giving me a kiss, filling my sad heart with something more beautiful. Afterward, his forehead rests on mine, breath tickling my lips. “We’ll talk about this more when I get back.”

  I nod.

  He moves for the truck just as Knox starts it, the loud roar of the engine slicing through the air before it peels away. Composing myself, I wipe away any remainder tears and head inside to find Thatcher in the kitchen.

  “Everything all right?” he asks, concerned.

  “It is now. The guys just got a call from Craig though. They said they’ll be back soon.”

  He nods.

  “Where’s Hannah?” I ask.

  “Colorin’ in the living room. Go on and see her, I’ll make you some tea.”

  “Thank you.” I walk into the other room and find her kneeling on the floor, pencil crayons scattered about.

  She looks up at me, her smile diminishing at my expression. “You okay, Mama?”

  “Yeah, baby, I’m okay.” I sit next to her and pull her against me, needing to hold her. “I love you, Hannah. So much. Do you know that?” Now more than ever, I feel the need to remind her of that.

  She hugs me back, her small arms squeezing me tight. “I love you, too.”

  Swallowing back my emotion, I find my smile once more and look down at the picture she’s drawing. “What do you have here?”

  “A picture of our family. That’s you and Daddy,” she explains, pointing to the left side of the page. “This is Papa Thatcher.” He stands next to a tractor, holding something in his hand.

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the object.

  “His harmonica.”

  “Perfect.”

  She directs my attention to the other side of the paper. “Over here is Uncle Knox and Uncle Braxten.”

  The both of them holding guns brings a smile to my face.

  “Who are these two?” I prompt, pointing at two small stick people.

  “That’s me and my little brother or sister.”

  My gaze swings to hers, every muscle in my body growing stiff.

  “Remember that day I threw a coin in the wishing well?” she says.

  I nod.

  “That’s what I wished for. That you and Daddy will get married and I’ll have a little brother or sister.”

  My heart flutters with the same hopes and dreams. “I want that too,” I admit on a whisper. They are so close to becoming a reality, they are within my grasp, I can feel it, and I will fight to make that happen for us all. “Never give up wishing, Hannah, that’s how dreams come true.”

  “I won’t, Mama.”

  Pressing a kiss to her head, I leave her to finish the picture then head back into the kitchen with Thatcher.

  “Have a seat, darlin’,” he says gently, bringing me a steaming cup of tea. He sits in the chair beside mine then takes my hand in his. “Talk to me.”

  I look down at his missing fingers; the same mangled hand that comforted me six years ago when I sat in this very same spot, having no one else to turn to. This man has been more of a parent to me than my own ever have.

  “You know, one of my biggest fears when I was pregnant with Hannah was that I wouldn’t be a good mother. Not only because of how young and inexperienced I was but also because I never had a good one. I never had someone who loved me, so how was I supposed to love my own?”

  I look up at him, tears building in my eyes once again.

  “But the moment she was born I knew there was no way I wouldn’t love her with every single breath I took. She became my entire world and it made me question how my own mother never found that love for me. Why does she hate me so much, Thatcher? I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

  His hand squeezes mine, the sadness taking over his expression reflecting the one in my heart. “It’s nothing you did, child.”

  “I try to tell myself that but now knowing what it’s like to be a mother I feel like there has to be a reason. A reason she harbors so much anger and resentment toward me.”

  A look passes across his face, one I can’t decipher. “I feel like there’s something I should tell you,” he starts, shifting in his seat. “I’d heard the rumors years ago but never paid them much mind since this town has always been famous for talk. However, the more time that passes, and after knowing how awful that woman has been to you, I think it’s worth mentioning.”

  “What is it?” I ask, curious about what could have him acting this way.

  “Back in the day it was said your father often enjoyed female company on the side,” he divulges. “One of those said women ended up pregnant and it got real messy. So messy that she ended up leaving town.”

  I peer back at him, shock rocking me over what he reveals.

  “Your mother was pregnant at the same time, or so she said, but some people didn’t believe she was ever pregnant.”

  “Well obviously she was because here I am.”

  His expression turns more solemn. “There was a short time when your mother left town. It was during her pregnancy and she never came back until after she had you.”

  I sit up straight, my heart beginning to beat wildly in my chest. “What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me my mother isn’t my real mother?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, it was to me too, but…haven’
t you ever noticed you don’t look a thing like her? Not one single trait.”

  I open my mouth then close it, thinking it over. I’ve always resembled my father over my mother but even then I don’t look much like him either. We share some similarities but not many.

  The more I think about this insane possibility, the more it would make sense of why she would hate me so much, but if I’m not hers then whose am I and where is she now?

  I look back at Thatcher, the need for answers burning in my heart.

  “I have no idea how you could even find out the truth,” he says. “But I’m sure—”

  “Gwen,” I speak up, her name popping into my head instantly. “She would know. She has to.” The possibility has me pushing to my feet. “I have to go see her.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. It can’t wait.”

  He stands, reaching for my arm. “I understand how you must be feeling. But wait for my son to come home. I don’t want you driving upset like this.”

  “I’ll be fine. I promise.” I grab my purse and search for Justice’s truck keys, finding them on the counter. “Will you watch Hannah for me?”

  “Of course, but please, Ryanne—”

  I cut him off with a kiss to the cheek. “I’ll be back before dark.” Without another word, I run out of the house, a sense of urgency filling me, the need for the truth. A truth I’m beginning to feel all the way down to my bones.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Justice

  It takes almost an hour with all the traffic by the time we arrive at the warehouse. Craig’s truck is parked outside with him standing next to it, his shoulders rigid with tension.

  My eyes scan our surroundings, all of us on alert. I trust Craig more than I do a lot of other people but I still don’t put all my trust in anyone, none of us do, which is why we’re all packing.

  “He’s not stupid enough to fuck us around, right?” Braxten asks.

  Knox shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  I agree. He wouldn’t have us meet him this far away, and he’s driving his personal truck, not squad, which makes me feel a little better.

  Climbing out, the three of us head his way. “Clemson,” I greet him with a nod. “What’s going on?”