True For You (Boys of the South)

by Valentine, Marquita

  “You think you know everything about me?” I ask, irritated that she actually does.

  “I’m good at reading people.” She says this without a hint of smugness. “And I’ve known you for a while.”

  “You don’t know everything about me,” I point out. “I bet you have no idea what I’m thinking right now.”

  She snorts. “You’d lose that bet.”

  Her confidence makes me smile. I sit up a little, and she scoots away from, keeping the sheet wrapped around her body. “Do tell.”

  She tilts her head to one side, the first playful smile I’ve seen on her face in a month making me smile in return. “You’re trying to think of a way to convince me that even though this marriage isn’t real, we should have sex anyway.”

  “No, I’m not,” I lie. Of course I’m thinking about having sex with her. It’s all I’ve thought about since the first time I met her.

  Instead of getting upset or even disgruntled, Bliss raises her brows. “So we’re not having sex?”

  “Do you want to have sex?” There. Now the ball’s in her corner.

  “Answer me first.” The sheet slips lower and, on purpose or not, my gaze is trained on the newly exposed tops of her breasts.

  “Not fair.”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” she says, and then hops out of bed, with the sheet wrapped around her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a shower, and then we can talk more later.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she darts into the bathroom, leaving me lying in bed and realizing that I still have no clue about two things:

  One—why did she agree to marry me?

  Two—what in the ever-loving hell made her scream like that?

  Chapter Four

  Bliss

  As I soap up my hair, I realize I have no idea what Jackson and I will talk about later.

  He’s intent on staying married, just to further his plans of getting out from under his father’s thumb.

  I get that. I really do.

  However, this isn’t a game for me, and maybe it’s not one to him, but I’m the one with the most to lose. If I leave, I have nowhere to go and not enough money to last me longer than a month, two if I sleep during the day and get a job waitressing at an all-night diner.

  Over the years, a nice, warm library, especially the kid’s section with their comfy beanbags, is a great place to take a nap. It’s safe, has bathrooms, and I can actually comprehend the books in that section. Well, the ones for eight years old and under.

  One day, I’d like to be able to read a play by Shakespeare or pick up a book of poetry and really get what the author means. For now, I’ll settle for Junie B. Jones.

  In any case, I have two choices:

  One—stay married to Jackson, and pray that he never finds out the truth.

  Two—become homeless again, and pray I find a job so I can at least eat.

  *** *** ***

  Jackson

  My buddy, Cameron Hurley, walks into my bedroom without knocking first, like he owns the place. I swear the guy needs to learn boundaries. “Jackson Morgan, what in the hell are you doing here?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I mean, I’m in bed for crying out loud, and there are clothes strewn on the floor. For all intents and purposes, it looks like I got laid last night.

  Of course, Bliss chooses that very moment to walk out of the bathroom, with a towel around her head, and my robe around her body. Her eyes go wide, and she freezes.

  Cameron holds out a hand. “I’m Cameron.”

  “Bliss,” she says softly, edging towards me.

  “Seriously, Cam?”

  “I didn’t know you had company. “ His hand falls to his side. “You never bring anyone here.”

  I expect a comment from Bliss, or at least a sigh over that, but no. All she does is ask where the closet is.

  Cameron and I point at the same door, at the same time. Bliss’ gaze bounces between the two of us, before she walks to it and disappears inside.

  “Seriously, I didn’t know,” Cameron repeats.

  “What did you think I was doing?”

  Cam points to the television in the corner. “Watching Cupcake Wars.”

  I was, in fact, watching Cupcake Wars. “You got me. “

  “Care to explain?”

  “Cupcakes are good. They’re like little muffins of happiness.”

  “Not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Your marriage.”

  Rising to my feet, I click off the television and turn to face Cameron. “I thought you didn’t know I had company.”

  He shrugs, and if he wasn’t the closest thing I had to a friend, I would have punched him for lying to me.

  “I don’t believe everything I read, so I decided to come by and find out the truth.”

  “What exactly did you read?” I know what my dad has told me, but I haven’t looked for myself, mostly because I’ve been trained not to look.

  Cameron cocks his head to one side. “Enough to know that you had to have been drunk to do something so stupid.”

  “Who are you—my mother?”

  “No, I’m your friend. One who won’t lie to you,” he says. I look away.

  Cameron has never lied to me, not one time. He gives it to me straight, not sugarcoating anything. If my latest song sucked ass, he’s the first one to tell me. But I can’t say I’ve treated him the same. He knows nothing of my dad’s sick, twisted games, or how much I loved Violet, how it killed me to leave her in that field with our unborn baby dying inside of her, and it’s because of all that why Cameron assumes I’m this cheating, low-life who needs his guidance.

  Hell, he’s not the only one who thinks the worse of me. Everyone thinks the worse of me, except for Bliss.

  “Go home,” I say, making my way to the closet.

  Bliss is standing inside, still wearing my robe, surrounded by clothes. Her face flames when she sees me, and she looks down at the floor. Her bare feet are peeking out of the hem.

  Guilt runs through me, like a river, washing away my anger and frustration. She has nothing to wear because of me.

  Wordlessly, I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head, then begin to stroke her back. “Sorry. I had no idea he’d barge right in.” I smile. “Well, usually he barges in, but usually I’m the only one here, and we go fishing or something.”

  “I wasn’t sure… it’s fine,” she says, still rigid as hell in my embrace.

  “Thought you might want to grab something to eat. Bliss can come too,” Cameron yells from the bedroom. So much for him leaving.

  “Shouldn’t you be in class right now, making freshman tremble?” Only two years older than me at twenty-six, he’s an assistant professor at the local university.

  Bliss relaxes into me. Did she think I was going to invite him in here, with us?

  “Last day of Spring Break.”

  “Lucky me,” I mutter into her hair. Slowly, I peel away the robe, and Bliss goes rigid again. “Trust me,” I say softly, staring into her pretty eyes and not at her sexy body. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, she goes all soft. “‘Kay.”

  Grabbing the closest t-shirt, I pull it off the hanger, and help her into it. The hem hits her mid-thigh. Next, I find a pair of old shorts. Ones I had outgrown years ago, but had kept for sentimental reasons. They barely go over her curvy hips as she pulls them up.

  My mouth runs dry at the sight of her. She’s not wearing anything underneath my clothes and her hair is damp from the shower. It curls every which way, wild and untamed.

  Danger, danger, a voice in my head shouts.

  “What do you want me to do now?” she asks softly.

  My gaze finally drops to her chest, the outline of her nipples apparent under the fabric of my shirt. No way I’m letting Cameron see her.

  “Do you have anything you can wear under this?”

  She nods. “In the bedro
om, the chair beside the dresser.”

  “You’re not helping the rumor mill, Jackson,” Cameron calls out.

  Bliss regards me thoughtfully, and then asks, “Can you get him out of our bedroom, please?”

  That sets me into motion. “Sure.” I grab a pair of grey sweats and a t-shirt, dressing in record time. “I’ll get Cameron to leave and we can—“

  “Is he your friend?”

  “In a way.”

  “Shouldn’t you introduce us?”

  No. “I guess.”

  She places a hand on my arm, the muscles beneath the skin jumping at her touch. “It’s your choice, Jackson.”

  “You’re the only one who’s ever given me a choice.”

  “Not even Violet?”

  Briefly, I close my eyes at the pain in my heart. “Don’t say her name.”

  “Violet’s my friend.” Her chin tips up. “She talked to me when no one else would. She did things with me when no one else would.”

  I would have done things with you, if you’d let me, I want to point out. Only she had and I’d screwed it up, and now I’ve screwed up even more by marrying her.

  I step closer to my wife. “Maybe so. But I’ve done things with your friend in every position imaginable, and she loved it. Think about that the next time you want to hang out with her.”

  Her face pales, and I want to take it back. I shouldn’t have said any of it, and not just because I shouldn’t have spoken about my ex like that.

  Before I can apologize, Bliss pierces me with a glare. “If Violet loved it so much, then why did Violet choose Cole over you, when Violet had the chance?”

  Chapter Five

  Bliss

  I shouldn’t have said that, I think, right before Jackson brushes past me, his jaw hard and his blue eyes icy.

  “I’m outta here,” Jackson grinds out. He puts on a pair of shoes and grabs a hoodie.

  I have no idea why he really wants to stay married, or if by making him mad, I’ve just changed his mind. It seems to me he could find another way to piss of his dad.

  Sure, I could ask, but over the years, I learned that people tend to reveal things they normally wouldn’t when I wait patiently and silently for them to speak. It’s not easy, but it’s yet another reason I’ve survived for so long on my own.

  “Where’s the fire?” I hear Cameron ask, his steps growing faint as he leaves the bedroom.

  “People to do, things to see,” Jackson shouts, for my benefit I’m sure.

  It doesn’t hurt me, not like he thinks it will.

  Okay, so I’m lying. It hurts a lot, because I know what he’s capable of doing. He doesn’t love me, so in his mind, marriage vows mean nothing to him.

  With a heavy heart, I pad into our bedroom and slip on my bra, fastening it in the back and smoothing my shirt down.

  I stare out the window, at the pretty beach with its soft sand and waves lapping at the shore. It’s too cold to go swimming in April, not that I would anyway, because I have no idea how to swim. This is the first time I’ve ever been to the beach; the closest I’ve ever gotten is a National Geographic issue featuring beaches around the world.

  The front door slams twice, but I don’t move from my spot. I hear male voices again, this time below me. I can’t see Jackson or Cameron, but it’s clear they’re arguing.

  “You can stay here, then, if you’re so damned concerned about her,” Jackson shouts, the wind carrying his words to me.

  I flush hot while my blood runs cold.

  Another slam. Tires squall on pavement.

  “He’s gone,” I whisper, and look at my ring. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for it back. I had figured it meant something to him, but what…who knows, and I doubt he’ll reveal that secret any time soon.

  I suspect it has everything to do with Violet. A pang of jealousy hits my heart, but I can’t be mad at her. I really do consider her my friend.

  Although, I doubt I’ll be seeing her any time soon.

  Here, on the outskirts of Charleston, on this tiny island, I doubt I’ll be seeing anyone soon, including Jackson.

  And that’s just the way I like it. Or so I tell myself.

  ***

  It’s almost six in the evening, and I’m curled up on the couch in the living room, watching A Lady’s Pleasure. The hero, an actor named Ian Romanov, plays a prideful, tormented earl who falls in love with the pastry shop girl, but can’t bring himself to admit it. So he uses a fake name and writes love letters to her, then she finds out and… well, I have never actually made it to the ending.

  When I was on tour with Jackson and Violet, all the girls would gather in her trailer for movie nights. Everyone, that is, but Callie, Jackson’s ex-fiancée.

  I don’t think anyone missed her, including Jackson, but I guess when your fiancée is cheating on you with your dad, well…

  The doorbell rings and I start, looking around for someone to answer it. It rings again, and then whoever is at the door knocks.

  “Guess I’m the lady of the house,” I mumble, walking cautiously down the stairs to the front door. There’s a window, right above the wooden door. There’s a person on the other side, holding two bags.

  Another knock and I hurry the rest of the way, opening up the door a crack.

  “Mrs. Morgan?” the delivery guy asks. He’s older, with grey hair at his temples, and a kind face.

  I stare at him blankly. “Who?”

  “Mrs. Bliss Morgan.”

  It takes me another second to realize that he means me. “Oh.” I swing the door open wider. “That’s me.”

  He grins and shakes his head, chuckling, “Newlyweds.” Then he holds up the first bag. “These are for you. Your groom ordered these earlier this afternoon.”

  Taking the bag, I peer inside. My head snaps up. “Food?” After the fight we had and the way he’d stormed out, Jackson had still thought of me?

  That grin stays, and his cheeks pinken. “That groom of yours said y’all were so anxious to start your honeymoon that he forgot to order his usual.”

  Now my cheeks heat. I take the second bag from him, the heavy weight pulling at my arms. Then my stomach flips. “How much do ah… we owe you?”

  “Jackson has an account with us.”

  “Let me get your tip.” I assume if he drove all the way out here, he would need a tip. I could handle that.

  “No need. That husband of yours helped the missus and me when we needed it the most. We had one heck of an insurance deductible when the last hurricane hit. He paid it for us, and that boy won’t let us pay him back. So delivering groceries to his sweet bride while he’s fishing is the least I can do.” Then he tips his hat to me, old-fashioned and sweet. “Take care, ma’am.”

  After shutting the door, I haul the bags upstairs and set them on the island. Digging in, the first thing I pull out is a package of cinnamon-flavored hot snaps. I stare at it in amazement, the memory of the time he’d caught me practically salivating over them.

  My nose is pressed against the glass, checking out all the candy in the window. We’d stopped in a small town, and I’d seen him go off with Violet.

  “See anything you like?” Jackson drawls, his voice close to my ear.

  I close my eyes, thinking of the last time he was this close to me. My heart pounds. I have two choices. One: I can ignore him and hope he goes away. Two: I can tell the truth and hope he stays.

  “Hot snaps.”

  “Spicy candy, huh?”

  “When I was a little girl, my mami would let me have them on my birthday, and my daddy would sneak them to me even when it wasn’t my birthday.” I glance at him out of the corner of his eye, to judge his reaction.

  “Is today your birthday?” he asks, that cocky drawl gone.

  My heart speeds up. “Not until June.”

  We turn and face each other.

  He gives me an odd look, and I wish and wish for a spark of something to appear.

  A piercing whistle startles me, breaking
the spell.

  He stretches, his shirt opening at the top a little, and I blink at the bruises on his neck. Before I can ask what happened, Jackson walks away. After a few minutes, I do the same, without the hot snaps.

  Later that night, when I go to my usual spot in the trailer, carrying the costumes, I find a brightly colored bag tied at the top with a bow.

  There’s a card lying beside it, facedown. I turn it over.

  Happy Early Birthday.

  Gathering the small bag in my arms, I hug it to my chest and think of the first time we met.

  The sound of seagulls crying brings me back to the present. It won’t be easy, but I can do this. All I have to do is remember the boy who I discovered crying in his hiding spot, and his promise to save me.

  And my offer to save him, no matter what.

  Chapter Six

  Jackson

  A huge pair of boobs are smashed against my face as I grab the shot glass from between them, with my teeth. I tip the glass back and finish it off, never letting my hands touch it or the woman in my lap.

  She stands, and saunters away, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.

  “I’m pretty sure tradition dictates bachelor parties take place before nuptials.”

  I slice my gaze to Cameron. Of course he’s looking at me and not the women on stage, because he’s too mature to be wasting his time here. “You can take your dictate and shove it up your—”

  “It doesn’t actually mean dick, you know,” he says.

  “I’m not stupid, Cam.”

  He takes a pull of his beer. “Not too sure about that.”

  I prop my feet up on the table in front of us, ignoring the gyrating bodies on stage. “Enlighten me, Professor.”

  “You’ve been crashing at my place for three days now, leaving your bride at home alone. Although, I am exceedingly proud of you for not hooking up with anyone,” he says.

  I’m not. I want to find someone else, but every time I try… I just can’t. A camera flashes, and I look up to see a random cell phone videoing me. “A man needs a little downtime before he starts his next project.”