Bittersweet (Redemption Book 3)

by Jessica Prince

  I pushed myself up to sitting as gently as possible but my ribs still groaned in agony. Shane saw the wince I hadn’t been able to hide and quickly moved to help me reposition. “Sorry about that,” I said once I was resting back on a mound of pillows against the headboard. “But that five mile walk was a real bitch.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Left it back at the house, along with pretty much everything else.”

  Her big, warm eyes filled with sadness as a tear broke free and slid down her cheek. I couldn’t stand to see my girl cry. It always killed, even when they were what she referred to as rage tears. So I looked to her uncle and said, “You can’t call the police. Please. I’ll be okay in no time.”

  His face was hard as marble as he spoke to Shane and Caroline, all the while, keeping his focus squarely on me. “You two step out for a minute. I need to talk to Jensen in private.”

  “No way!” Shane barked. “I’m not leaving him.”

  He turned to look at his niece, his expression growing soft, but he didn’t waver. “You can come back in a few minutes, but right now me and him need to talk man to man. Go on now, darlin’.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but being the good, respectful girl she was, she did as told. “I’ll be right outside,” she promised me before leaning in to brush a tender kiss to my temple. Then she and her aunt headed out the door, pulling it closed behind them and leaving Scooter and me alone.

  He didn’t hesitate or pull any punches when he asked, “Your old man do this to you? That why you don’t want to cops involved?” I didn’t say a word, I didn’t even move. I simply kept my gaze pinned to him and let him read the answer in my eyes. “Fuckin’ thought so,” he snarled. “I’m guessin’ from the looks of you, this isn’t the first time, either.” Again, he surmised the answer from my blank expression. “Christ,” he bit. Blowing out a harsh breath, he reached up to drag a hand over his salt and pepper hair. “Why didn’t you fight back, son?”

  He was the only man in my life to ever call me son. I’d never even gotten that from my own father. But hearing it from this rough, road-hardened man meant more to me than he’d ever know, because he didn’t just say it. He made me feel it.

  “I’m eighteen, Scooter. You think, after he did something like this, if I fought back, he wouldn’t have found a way to twist that shit to the cops so I’d go down?”

  “That fuckin’ motherfucker,” he snarled, his tight frame vibrating with rage. “He needs to pay for this. What asshole beats the hell outta his own kid?”

  The kind who never loved his own kid in the first place, I thought. “It’s done. I don’t give a shit about making him pay. All that matters to me is that I don’t have to go back. Please, Scooter,” I pleaded. “Just let this be done. I don’t want this to drag out any longer than it already has.”

  He dropped his head, giving it a weary shake, and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to let it go. Finally, he looked back at me and said, “I’ll give you that play, but only this one time. You hear me? And we’re takin’ pictures of this shit.” He waved his hand to encompass my battered body. “That way, we need it for later, we’ll have ammunition against the bastard.”

  “Deal. And when I’m feeling better, I’ll start looking for my own place.”

  He gave me a stern look that I could only assume was the kind a father would give to a child he was scolding. It was the first time in my life I’d ever gotten a look like that. “You think for one goddamn second Caroline’s gonna let you stay anywhere but here, you got somethin’ wrong with your head. You’re one of us, son, and we take care of our own.

  “You can stay here as long as you need, but there’ll be rules. The biggest one bein’ you don’t touch my niece under my roof. I’m no fool, I know what goes on in the head of an eighteen-year-old-man, especially when he’s got himself a beauty like my Shaney. And I know tryin to stop it from happening will have the same effect as puttin’ a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. But it won’t happen in my home. You get me? And you knock her up before she’s of legal age, I’ll kill you.”

  I’d never had a family until I met Shane, and with her came her aunt and uncle. I was a part of something for the first time in my life. I actually belonged somewhere. I respected the hell out of his man and his wife, and there was no way in hell I’d do anything to mess that up. “Yes sir.”

  He released another sigh. “All right then. You rest up now. I’ll send Shane back in.”

  He stood and moved to the door, but before he could pull it open, I spoke up. “Scooter.” He turned to look at me over his shoulder, and I suddenly felt my throat tighten up like someone was squeezing. “Thank you,” I managed to croak past the ball of emotion that had formed there. “For everything. I won’t disrespect you. You have my word.”

  He nodded and pulled in a deep inhale. “And you have my word that shit like this’ll never happen again. Now rest, son.”

  Sure enough, Shane entered less than five seconds after Scooter exited, rushing back to the bed and sitting down beside me. “Everything okay?”

  I gave her a smile, or at least tried, seeing as the cut on my lip burned like fire when I tried. “It’s all good, sunshine.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her pearly white teeth before asking, “How do you feel?”

  I let out a little chuckle. “Like I got the shit beat outta me, but I’ll be fine.”

  That glassiness returned to her eyes, and she sniffled to beat the tears back. “What happened, Jens?”

  I gave her the short version, trying to keep the worst of the ugliness from infecting her, but when she pushed to know what started the fight, I knew I didn’t have a choice. My girl was too damn smart. I couldn’t keep anything from her, so as much as I hated it, I ended up telling her the full story.

  By the time I finished, tears were spilling from her eyes at a steady rate. “So, this is all my fault,” she said in a small, broken voice.

  “No,” I insisted. Despite the pain, I sat up straight, reaching out to take her chin in my hand and guide her eyes to mine. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  She tried pulling her face away, but I wouldn’t let her. “Of course it is,” she cried. “Look at you! He did this because he thinks I’m not good enough and you refused to break up with me. You should have just—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” I said on a growl. “Me leaving you is never gonna happen, so don’t even suggest it. It had nothing to do with whether or not you’re good enough. Your family could have money coming out of your asses and it still wouldn’t have mattered. He knew you made me happy, and he wanted to take that away. You matter to me. That’s why he wanted me to end it.”

  She pulled in a long, slow breath and blinked away the tears. “I hate him,” she whispered a minute later. “I’ve never even met him and I hate him. He’s the reason you get into all those fights, isn’t he?”

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headboard. I hated that she’d seen that side of me, but I couldn’t fucking stand that she now knew why I was the way I was. “It’s fucked up,” I grunted.

  I worried that she was going to leave now that she knew the truth, knew just how messed up I was. But she didn’t.

  Her voice was closer when she spoke next, and when I opened my eyes, her face was only inches away. “It is. And it’s all his fault.”

  “Shane—”

  “I get it now,” she continued, speaking over me. “I always knew there was something more behind why you sometimes get so angry you can’t control it, but I didn’t know what. Now I do, and I get it.”

  My chest clenched and my stomach dropped. My breathing escalated as a sweat beaded up on my forehead. “Are you—” Jesus, even thinking it made me feel like I was going to be sick. “Are you done with me?”

  Her brow pinched in confusion. “What?”

  “You know the truth now. You know how fucked up I am. Why I do the shit I do. So are you done with me?” My skin gr
ew clammy. The thought of losing her, of having her take away the only light in my life . . . it fucking killed.

  “No,” she breathed. I saw her amber eyes go wide before I lost sight of them when she rested her forehead against mine and squeezed them shut. “God, Jens, no. I’m glad I know the truth because it helps me understand you better. I’m not done with you. I’m not sure I ever will be.”

  The effort was brutal and my body screamed in objection, but I managed to lift my arms and wrap them around her, pulling her warm body even closer. “Good,” I said quietly. “’Cause I don’t ever want you to. I love you, sunshine.”

  She shifted her position, resting along my side with her head on my shoulder and her arm laying across my waist. “I love you too, bunny.”

  I rolled my eyes, even though I secretly loved that nickname. We lapsed into silence, and a few minutes later, I fell asleep with my girl pressed against me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Shane

  I’d known I was in trouble when I woke up Saturday morning and the heaviness in my limbs had turned to stiffness, making it almost painful to move. When I managed to peel my eyes open and saw the numbers on my alarm clock read a good three hours later than I normally woke up, I’d made the mistake of trying to jump out of bed and rush so I could get ready and go pick up Brantley.

  That was when it had hit me: the stuffy head that pounded like I had a marching band inside of it, the body-wracking chills, the aches that started in my scalp and radiated all the way down to my toes.

  The night before hadn’t been a fluke or the effects of not eating. It had been a precursor for something bigger. I had the stupid freaking flu.

  I did my best to downplay it when I’d called Caroline and asked if she wouldn’t mind bringing Brantley to me since I was still feeling a little off, and my car was still at Bad Alibi from the night before. She’d agreed happily, saying she’d have Scooter bring my car to me.

  After I got off the phone, I attempted to shower, which only helped to deplete the rest of what little energy I had. I’d only just struggled my way into a pair of yoga pants, a long T-shirt, and a cardigan—because, you know . . . fever—before the front door flew open and my little hurricane came rushing in.

  I pasted on a smile and willed my body not to keel over dead as I promised my aunt up and down that I’d be just fine and I didn’t need to her keep Brantley for the day. We already missed so much time together thanks to my job, I wasn’t willing to give up any more, sick or not.

  As it was, I already asked too much of my aunt and uncle. The last thing I wanted to do was take advantage of their generosity or, God forbid, have them start resenting me for leaning on them so much. So I did the best I could for Brantley, all while feeling like death warmed over. By Saturday evening I regretted not telling Caroline the truth. By that night, after I tucked my kid into bed, all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and cry myself to sleep, that was how miserable I felt.

  Now it was Sunday morning, and I was convinced I was on death’s door, getting ready to ring the bell. I hurt everywhere. Even my eyelids hurt. I had aches in muscles I hadn’t known existed. My body shook so bad with fever that my teeth rattled, and no amount of Tylenol could get it to break.

  Brantley was doing his best to stay quiet as he played, knowing his momma wasn’t feeling good, but my boy liked to suck every bit of goodness out of life each day, meaning he was busy, he was energetic, and he was loud. Even when he tried not to be.

  A knock sounded on the door, pulling his attention from the Avengers movie I’d put on the TV for him. “I’ll get it!” he shouted, jumping up from his place on the floor where he’d been camped out, lying on his little belly with his chin in his hands and his feet swinging in the air.

  “Brant, no. What’d I tell you about opening the door?” I pushed up to sitting on the couch and the whole room started to spin. “Whoa.” I held my hands out for balance before giving in to gravity and collapsing back onto the cushions. “Okay, you can open it this one time, but ask who it is first.”

  I took big, steady breaths, trying to stave off the nausea rumbling in my belly, watching as my son rushed to the front door and smooshed his face against it like it would help him see through the paper-thin wood. “Who is it?” he yelled louder than necessary.

  “Hey, bud. It’s Dad,” I heard Jensen return, and I nearly started bawling in relief. Until right then I’d forgotten all about him picking Brantley up for a visit today. Maybe if I got a couple hours of sleep I’d feel well enough later to get up and drive my ass to the pharmacy for some flu meds.

  “Daddy!” Brantley swung the door open with a whoosh, nearly colliding with the screen door in an effort to get to his father. “You’re here! You’re here!”

  Jensen got the screen open before my kiddo maimed himself and picked him up with a laugh. “Careful, kid. You’re gonna give yourself a concussion.”

  “What’s a cuss-shun?”

  Jensen gave him a bright white grin that, even in my state—halfway between alive and dead—I couldn’t help but appreciate. “Nothing, bud. You ready to learn how to ride your bike?”

  “Yeah!” Brantley squirmed to be let down, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he bolted toward his room. “I’mma get my helmet!”

  It was only once he was out of the room that Jensen turned his attention to me, and the smile that had graced his face instantly fell. “Jesus, sunshine. You okay?” He rushed over to the couch, taking a seat on the coffee table and leaning in so he could place his hand on my forehead. “Fuck. You’re burning up.”

  “So, it turns out I misread the signs my body was giving me Friday night. I have the flu.” As soon as the words left my mouth I was hit with a coughing fit, because of course there’s nothing sexier than hacking up a lung—and possibly some other nasty stuff—in front of a hot guy.

  “Okay, get up. I’m takin’ you to the doctor.”

  “It’s fine,” I lied, pushing his hands away when he tried grabbing at me. “I’ve got this. While you and Brant are gone, I’m gonna take a little nap then go get some medicine. I just need to rest.”

  He scowled down at me like I was a petulant child. “That’s such a crock. You need a doctor, Shane.”

  “Really, I swear. Just some sleep, some over-the-counter flu medicine, and I’ll be good as new. I’ll just snuggle up in my bed while you guys are gone—” I tried sitting up again, which was a huge mistake. “Or maybe I’ll just stay here.” The living room suddenly got really fuzzy. “Yeah. Here’s good. Here’s the best. Who needs a bed when you’ve got a secondhand couch with a permanent butt indent to curl up in?”

  “That’s it. I’m done taking your word for it. We’re going to the doctor.”

  Brantley came rushing down the hall and into the living room. He’d put on so many layers of clothes his arms wouldn’t go down all the way. “Ready!” he called out. “I put on extra stuff so it won’t hurt real bad if I fall. But I don’t think I will, ’cause I’m a super good bike rider.”

  Jensen moved to him and crouched down. “Change of plans, buddy. Your momma’s feeling pretty sick today, so you and I are going run her to the doctor really quick.” His little face fell into a pout, but before he could throw a fit, Jensen continued, expertly defusing the situation. “After all, it’s our job to take care of the women in our lives, right?”

  Brantley suddenly squared his shoulder and lifted his chin, apparently taking his made-up job as protector very seriously. “Right. It’s our job.”

  “Yep. So why don’t you go take off a couple of those layers so we can go. But I promise we’ll ride bikes as soon as we get back. Deal?”

  “Okay!” Once again cheerful, my boy ran back to his room to strip down while Jensen headed to me and gently pulled me off the couch and onto my feet.

  “You know this is totally unnecessary, right? I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

  He gave me a sardonic look. “Yeah? And how’s that been working
out for you the past two days?”

  He had me there. Not that I’d admit it.

  The drums in my head decided to kick things up a notch right then, beating so loud my eyeballs began to pulse. Maybe I needed a doctor after all.

  “Fine, I’ll let you take me,” I relented with all the dignity of a spoiled brat. “But only because I don’t want to hear you bitch about it anymore.”

  “Sure, honey,” he muttered, the humor clear as a bell in his voice as he hitched an arm around my waist and took most of my weight.

  “There’s just one thing I have to do first.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  I answered by lurching forward and puking all over his shoes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jensen

  “Well, no doubt about it, you definitely have the flu.”

  At the doctor’s declaration, Shane shot me a pouty look that screamed told you so. Instead of reacting, I turned my attention to the small old man in a white coat. “So what’s next, Doc?”

  He pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned to me after scribbling something down on a chart that I wouldn’t have been able to read with a microscope and all the time in the world. “Well, I’m giving her a prescription for Tamiflu.” He turned to Shane and said, “That should kick in quickly, and hopefully you’ll be back to your regularly scheduled program in a few days,” before looking back to me. “In the meantime, I want her to alternate between ibuprofen and acetaminophen every four hours until the fever breaks. Repeat if it returns. That will help with the body aches as well. Other than that, she needs a lot of rest. And call me if she doesn’t start improving within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “Will do. Thanks so much, Doc.”

  “No problem. You can check out up front when you’re ready.” He ripped a piece of paper off his prescription pad and handed it to me before heading out of the exam room.