by Bijou Hunter
Hugh slaps down his cards, sighs dramatically, and leans forward to look me right in the eyes. “She is super crazy into you, but she thinks you do not like her. No way are you too stupid to realize how you have all the power. No, you’re just an asshole.”
“Then why do you hang out with me?”
“I told you. I like assholes. Besides, you treat me better than you do Shelby.”
“How do you fucking figure?”
“You seek me out.”
Leaning back in the booth, I smack my head against that overhang shit and grumble, “Aren’t you fucking special?”
“Look, man, I get it. You don’t feel comfortable with the Reapers. I saw you warming up to them on the trip, but you got back here and returned to acting like an outsider. You think I’m like you, but I’m really not. I’m cool with me, but you seem uncomfortable being you.”
“Fuck off with your head-shrinking shit,” I mutter.
“I like you, Dean,” he says as his pale blue eyes focus hard on me, “but you are the problem. Not the Skullz, who are dead. Or the Reapers, who welcomed you into their club. Shelby isn’t the problem either. It’s you.”
“I’m not the bad guy.”
“No, but you’re the problem. If you wanted Shelby, you could show up at her house right now, and she’d make time for you. It’s kinda pathetic how into you she is. We all mock her behind her back about that.”
“You’re an asshole,” I growl, not liking them talking shit about Shelby.
“Because I’m making you feel guilty or because I’m mean to your girlfriend?” he asks, wearing a smirk.
“I’m never dating anyone again.”
“Because you don’t know how to get out of something once you get in it?”
Frowning, I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Those other women were fucked-up. That’s cool. Some of my favorite people are fucked-up, but those chicks weren’t givers. They needed you to fix them, but you’re not equipped for that shit. You’re fucked-up too. That’s okay, man. Lots of people are fucked-up. The problem is you need someone less fucked-up to offset how fucked-up you are. It’s why Utah and I work now. I adjusted to his shit because I’m the less fucked-up one. Instead of me banging against a wall for years trying to make him be what I wanted, I filled my needs with my friends. I bent because he can’t. I bet Shelby would bend for you.”
“But she wants too much.”
“Yeah, probably. Not like you can move into the Victorian and be with her all the time anyway. She doesn’t even sleep in a bed, and the house is currently too full of people. But you can say, ‘Shelby, I want to see you on Tuesdays and Thursdays.’ She’d know you weren’t just putting up with her visits, and you’d have more control.”
“That actually makes sense.”
“Of course, it does. I said it.”
Ignoring his cocky grin, I mutter, “Women suffocate me.”
“Well, man, you picked shitty women. I wouldn’t want to spend time with them either.”
“And my mom was a bitch too.”
“Isn’t she still alive?”
“Yomp.”
“Well, you said she was a bitch as if her bitchiness was past tense. She’s still a bitch, isn’t she?”
“Don’t talk about my mom.”
“My mom’s a bitch too,” he says, shuffling the cards again. “She lives in an alternative reality where I’ll wake up one day craving pussy. Then I’ll get married and have kids. Oh, and cut my hair. She hates it long. Yeah, I’m just one dream cycle away from being the son she actually wants. It sucks how me being me isn’t enough for her. She once made a snide comment about how she didn’t get to pick her son, as if she got screwed by having me. Well, she isn’t the mom I wanted either. I like Kelsi’s mom better, so I just decided she’s my real mother. I also like Shane’s mom. She makes me cookies and tells me I’m handsome. In fact, Shane’s father is better than mine too. I should just adopt those people.”
Hugh thinks about his idea and snorts. “That’s what you need, Dean. Adopt someone else’s mom, so you’ll get over having a shitty one.”
“I don’t think she’s shitty,” I say, knowing I’m going against what I just said minutes ago.
“Do you like your mom?”
“I guess.”
“Would you spend the weekend with her somewhere for a little vacation?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then you don’t like her,” he says with a head nod. “I once spent a weekend with my mom in Ohio, and I nearly went on a murder spree. It was awful. But I’ve spent weekends in Ellsberg at Winnie and Dylan’s house, and it’s always great. Shelby and Shane love hanging out with their parents. Ramona can’t deal with her mom for an hour without needing an exit. If you can’t be around your mom for a long period, you don’t like her.”
“I love my mom.”
“Everyone loves their mom. You know that, right?”
Sneering at him, I growl, “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
“But you might be.”
I bang my hands on the table. Hugh flinches and then bursts into laughter. This right here is why I seek him out. He never gets fazed by my crap.
“I’d suggest you get therapy,” he says, still chuckling, “but you’d just threaten the shrink and storm out.”
“Probably.”
“Do that thing I said about telling Shelby you want her to be over on certain days. I think you need to move slow. Those other chicks ended up living with you too quickly, and then you couldn’t break free.”
“They played their drama games. Fake pregnancies, suicide threats, all the tricks.”
“Shelby won’t do that. She likes to blurt out shit way too much to manipulate someone. One time, she was threatening me, and then halfway through her little tirade, she admitted that she would never hurt me. The chick can’t play games.”
“Why would she threaten you?”
“She wants to be intimidating like her brother and River. Even Taylor, but Shelby has something soft about her that ruins the effect. However, she did a good job beating the shit out of Fuse’s daughters. Oh, and she punched a sweet butt once when the chick said something negative about Kelsi. Your baby mama owns a glorious right hook.”
Smiling, I can imagine Shelby punching someone. I also know what Hugh means about her having a soft quality. I used to think it was her sexy curves that made her seem that way. But it’s her face. There’s something about her expressions that make me feel like she’s safe. That’s why I push her away.
Shelby Campbell might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she might warm any room she’s in. Yet, even I’m not stupid enough to think she’s safe.
THE CHAPTER WHERE SANDWICHES CLOCK THE PASSAGE OF TIME
THE WEIRDO
Goliath doesn’t come back from the three-day ride with a different perspective. Oh, I have no doubt he’s more comfortable with the men in his club. That doesn’t mean he’s gone cuddly. Goliath still looks irritated every time I show up at his trailer for a booty call, which I do several times a week.
Despite his unwillingness to call me his girlfriend, we’re essentially dating. Mostly, because I’m sneaky. Goliath might be satisfied with me showing up, fucking him, and leaving. That’s not enough for my heart. I’m willfully in denial. I want more.
That’s why I bring food to my booty calls. After we fuck, I don’t get dressed. Instead, I lounge around, hinting at more sex later. Goliath might be a jerk with commitment issues, but that doesn’t mean he’ll throw a naked chick out of his trailer. More than once, anyway.
On my first attempt to lengthen our booty calls, I bring his favorite double-sized chicken fried steak sandwiches and keep them stashed in my giant satchel. Their aroma fills the trailer while I enjoy the body of the man that I desperately want to want me. By the time he’s satisfied and relaxed, I have his stomach growling.
The week after Halloween, I stop hiding the food in my bag. By Thanksgiving, he tell
s me not to bring anything because he has shit at his place.
Yeah, we’re totally dating!
Three times a week, I arrive at his trailer and pretend we’re building something between us. Goliath was the one who decided I should come on specific days because he’s busy or some shit. I’d be here every day if he let me.
But he doesn’t want that. He needs his space. When I see him at the Saloon, he barely acknowledges me unless I speak directly to him.
This arrangement isn’t enough, and it’s temporary, but I refuse to show any common sense. Cherishing the crumbs that he offers pushes me forward, even knowing how things will end.
For now, he doesn’t fuck anyone else. I’d know if he did. Shasta is a gossipy town, especially within the club circle. There is no way he sticks his dick in a sweet butt without that information getting back to me. He knows that too. I pretend he doesn’t want to be with anyone else and would turn down those chicks even if I said I didn’t mind. Denial is a helluva drug.
Today, Goliath texts to say he doesn’t have anything to eat at his place. If I want food, I need to bring some.
I show up with French onion meatball sandwiches. Thinking back to the beginning of these booty calls, I was nervous about his temper and mine. I hadn’t felt pregnant back then, but I sure as fuck do now.
Bloated and easily thrown into tears, I’m more connected to the pregnancy. It’s still early, though. I’m not even sure what’ll happen between Goliath and me after the holidays, let alone by late spring when our kid is born.
Resting on my side in bed as our bodies enjoy the relaxation that comes from a good fuck, I study Goliath staring upward. He visited his mother yesterday. I don’t know why he still does that. My mom claimed Goliath is a man of habit. Dad then pointed out how she’s only guessing since they don’t know him at all. My father’s hints about wanting to spend time with Goliath aren’t subtle. I try to explain how my relationship involves only booty calls. Dad knows I’m full of shit. Everyone does. Probably even Goliath.
“Your brother texted earlier and told me to come to your house tomorrow for a barbecue,” Goliath mutters, sounding irritated. “I checked with Utah. He ain’t going. Chase isn’t either. Hugh is, but he’s always at your house. Why do I have to go?”
“Why are you asking me and not my brother?”
“You’re the one naked in my bed.”
“True,” I say and roll onto my back. “My dad told Shane to include you more.”
“How come?”
Frowning at him, I ask, “Dude, do you just forget how you knocked me up?”
“Yomp. I do, actually,” he says, smiling at the ceiling. “You don’t look pregnant.”
“I’m getting chunky.”
“Where?” he asks, rolling over and feeling up my coconut for some reason.
“Well, not there.”
Goliath smirks at my tone. “I don’t want to get ambushed at your house.”
“Like physically ambushed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would Shane ambush you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Max is a great cook, and Shane is good on the grill. It’ll be fun. No one cares if you talk or goof around. You can just stand in the corner and eat the food and then leave.”
“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice.”
Fighting a pout, I push away his hands. “I’ll tell him that you don’t want to be there, and he’ll let you back out,” I offer, knowing I’m the real reason Shane invited him. My brother wants me to be happy, and he thinks this is helping. Goliath, though, isn’t playing hard to get. He just doesn’t want to be caught.
“Why do you look upset?”
“I’m hormonal.”
Goliath frowns at me while I look at the ceiling and try to imagine our future. How can I co-parent with someone who only wants to fuck me?
“I’ll come to the dinner thing,” he says, frowning harder. “No need to get dramatic.”
“I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Besides, if you’re throwing a fit about being there, everyone will feel awkward.”
“I don’t throw fits. I’m not a kid.”
“I know.”
Goliath mutters something under his breath. I think maybe he calls me a bitch or something. I consider leaving, but I brought food, and I’m too moody to drive. I’ll just end up parked on the side of the road, curled up in the back seat while listening to my mom read and hoping I don’t run into the Shasta Slasher.
Yanking the quilt from under his body, he tosses it over me. “You look cold.”
“Thank you,” I say, rolling to my side to look at him.
“What?”
“For the millionth fucking time, I like your face.”
Goliath gives me an almost sheepish smile. I call bullshit on the idea that women don’t compliment him all the damn time. Despite hiding under his wild hair and untamed beard, Goliath’s a handsome man.
“You got a good face too.”
Grinning, I wiggle closer. “Thank you.”
Goliath’s expression flickers between annoyed and something softer. He gets like this sometimes. Almost warm, as if he wants me to do more than ride his dick. I see him with Hugh at the Saloon, and he smiles easier. With me, he acts put out.
But maybe, just maybe, underneath his annoyance, this man owns a heart built just for me.
THE GOLIATH
Shelby is acting weird like she does before bailing. I’m not ready for her to leave, so I throw a blanket over her. She likes the gesture and rewards me with a smile. Is that all it takes to make her happy? I think to bring up food, but I’m not hungry enough to give up a naked woman in my bed.
“What happened here?” I ask, noticing a few white scars above her wrist.
“I jumped out of the window of a two-story house and broke my arm. Turns out the exit move by so many final girls in horror movies actually injures normal people.”
“Why the fuck would you jump out of a window?” I ask without thinking if I want to know the answer.
“I got roofied,” she says, quieter now. “My head wasn’t working right. I saw the doorway blocked, and I thought about those chicks jumping out the windows in the movies I love. It seemed easy. Smashing through the window and falling to the yard didn’t even hurt that much, but the bone sticking out of my arm was scary as hell.”
“Who roofied you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes while remembering what River said about Shelby’s dislike of blowjobs.
“There’s a college in Ellsberg, and I was partying at a house with a few students. I knew the people. I felt safe. Taylor was there. We drank the drinks our friends handed out. Next thing I knew, I was in a room with some guys. I was too out of it to go ninja on them. In horror movies, you can fight, hide, or flee. The first two weren’t options, so I made my final-girl move and ended up on the front lawn with a busted arm.”
“Are those guys the ones that River buried?”
“He told you about that?” she asks, her bright eyes wide now.
“Not the details.”
“Yeah, well, it’s private,” she mutters, sitting up and frowning at me. “Don’t ever mention anything to my parents.”
“I don’t even know your parents.”
“One day, you will. They’re your kid’s grandparents. You’ll know them, and I can’t have you blabbing about that,” she says, revealing the kind of woman capable of killing.
“I thought you were close to your parents.”
“My mom can’t handle knowing what happened. Her world is very small. She has a good set of friends, Dad, her kids, and that’s it. I refuse to bring ugliness into her world.”
“What about your dad?”
“He can’t keep shit from mom. She figures out when he’s holding back. Then she gets agitated over his secrets.”
“What do they think happened to your arm?”
“I fell while goofing around. That freaked them out enough.”
/>
Studying her face, I try to see past her beauty to the girl hiding her pain to protect her mom. “And your little brother and friend handled it.”
“Of course. Why do you make it sound as if I did something wrong?”
“It’s just my voice, Shelby. You’re supposed to be smart. Figure shit out.”
She almost smiles, but her eyes hold a cagey darkness now. “Fine, but you sound judgmental.”
“I wouldn’t have told my mom if I jumped out of a window and broke my arm either.”
“It’d have to be a big-ass window for you to fit,” she teases, finally giving in to a smile.
I run my fingers over her wrist but don’t ask more questions. Shelby watches me with a too-intense gaze now. I feel like she’s about to put me on the spot by asking for something I can’t give her.
“I want you to hug me,” she says, crawling closer with the blanket. “I need a hug, and I want it from you.”
“That’s it?”
“You never hug me.”
“I do when we’re fucking.”
“Well, we’re not currently fucking, and I want a hug.”
Shelby doesn’t really wait for me to agree. She presses herself against my chest and gets soft. Her breathing changes when I wrap an arm around her.
“This isn’t so bad, right?” she asks, lifting her gaze to meet mine.
“I only hugged Jaymes and Becklyn when they were losing their shit.”
“I’m not them. Don’t you like hugs?”
Her fingers caress my face, and I feel the sensation down to my toes. When her lips brush against my throat, I tighten my hold on her. Shelby’s softness makes me warm and comfortable in a way that feels wrong. It’s why I struggle not to push her away.
With such a small gesture, she steals all the power in this relationship. I feel like a chump now. I want her to stay with me. No, fuck that shit. I need her to stay with me. Why can’t I have nice things? I’m not a loser. I deserve good stuff.
“I wanted you the moment I saw you,” she murmurs as her lips kiss at my chest. “No man ever made me feel that way.”
Wrapping my fingers under her chin, I force her gaze to meet mine. “Why?”
