Stout (Lovibond Collection #2)

by Georgia Cates

  “Fuck, no.”

  “Okay. I can relax now. Continue on.”

  “We had fake IDs. Not that this particular establishment really gave two shits but we decided if we couldn’t get sucked or fucked, we’d get hammered. So the two-buck beer pitchers started coming. It was our first time to pull a drunk.”

  Oliver fills a new glass halfway at a different tap and slides it in front of me again. “Apricot ale.”

  He returns to his stool and picks up where he left off. “Good times were being had. And then Jimmy-mother-fucking-McCollum walked in. I hadn’t seen him in eleven years.”

  “But you knew him.” Because you don’t forget those people who hurt you. It festers. Grows like a cancer.

  “Knew him immediately. And every bit of shit he did to me came flooding back like I was sitting in a theater watching it happen on the big screen.” And his wound opens.

  “Every bit of therapy I had went out the fucking window that night.”

  Oliver Thorn is a beautiful man. But right now, the scowl that mars his gorgeous mouth, the anger in his normally mischievous eyes, shows me that it may have been twelve years ago but the pain is still there. I can also hear it in his voice.

  “My buddies were drunk and passed out cold while I sat in my parked truck waiting for Jimmy to come out.” What was going through that seventeen-year-old kid’s head while he sat there?

  “The fucker didn’t know me. I had to tell my own biological father who I was as I was about to stomp his ass. He laughed and told me I could try. That pissed me off even more so I yelled, ‘Let’s dance, motherfucker.’ I liked fighting him. I liked kicking the shit out of him while he was down. I liked seeing his blood on my busted knuckles. I lost all control. I wasn’t myself at all. Not even when I got into my truck and drove away like it didn’t happen. Like I didn’t leave him bleeding and unconscious on the ground.”

  Oliver’s eyes meet mine and I easily recognize the darkness hiding behind the pale blue. I’ve seen it before . . . when I look in the mirror.

  “I did those things, Adelyn. Liked every moment. Didn’t regret a single blow. Still don’t.” Oliver leans closer and whispers, “And to this day the pleasure I took in hurting him makes me wonder if I’m more like Jimmy than I care to admit.”

  How could this thoughtful, protective, sexy man think he is anything like the evil scum of his father? I have witnessed his care of his ex-girlfriend. His care of me when he told me to get on his bike, effectively putting an end to my baking bug. Effectively removing me from my pain. Surely he knows he was mistreated and that it wasn’t okay? “You were wronged in a terrible way. Never question what kind of person you are because you chose to take a stand.”

  “I’ve never told anyone what I did to him.”

  Surprise catches in the back of my throat and flutters like a butterfly. “Why me?”

  “You confided in me with your darkest secret. I wanted to do the same so you’d know we aren’t so different.” His hand slides closer to mine and our fingertips make a game of advance and retreat. I think he intends his touch to be a show of support. Encouragement. But it’s the single most sexual/non-sexual act I’ve ever shared with a man.

  “Thank you for confiding in me.”

  I feel all kinds of growing sexual tension between Oliver and me. It’s nearly suffocating. But something else is there too.

  A seed of trust has been planted. Now we wait to see if it takes root. Will we nurture the fruit or allow it to be choked by weeds?

  Oliver Thorn

  “Fuck.” Tap yanks his ball cap off his head by the bill and slams it against the arm of his recliner. “Come on, Braves. How many batters are you gonna let him walk before you swap pitchers?”

  Lawry leans over the arm of the chair so her mouth is positioned above Tap’s ear. “Language, Brou. You know Tripp repeats every cuss word he hears.”

  He sure does. That little shit is only two and I’ve personally heard him correctly use the word fuck on more than one occasion. That kid is hell on wheels.

  “Tripp isn’t in here. Besides that¸ he learns that shit from his mama and daddy. Not me.”

  “Fuck you.” Warren throws a bottle cap at Tap, hitting him on the forehead.

  “You see that shit?”

  “Maybe so, but you know he’s crazy about his Uncle Bou. If he hears you cuss, he’s going to repeat it so he can be like you.”

  “You’re right.”

  Lawry kisses the side of her husband’s face. “Thank you. And I know Bridgette will appreciate your effort as well.”

  Tap drags Lawry onto his lap and nibbles the side of her neck as he continues watching the baseball game over her shoulder. “My beautiful, lovely, sweet wife. Will you please go get a beer for me?”

  Lawry pulls Tap’s ball cap down over his eyes. “You are worthless. Absolutely. Worthless.”

  “That’s not what you said last night.”

  “Good grief.” Lawry punches Tap in the chest and climbs off his lap. “Don’t say stuff like that. People will think we’re having sex or something.”

  “Or trying to make a baby.” Porter and Warren’s heads simultaneously spin toward Tap.

  Lawry stops and turns around. “Brou . . . I thought we decided to keep that on the down-low.”

  “I’m sorry. It slipped out before I knew it.”

  “Congratulations. Best wishes.” Porter shrugs. “Break a leg? I don’t know what you say to someone who’s doing that.”

  “I hope like hell I don’t break a leg. Let’s go with ‘good luck’ instead.”

  They can forget my input on the correct way to wish one well on conceiving a baby. “I’ll make the beer run.”

  Warren inspects his beer. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

  Tap turns up his drink and gulps the last of it before holding out his empty bottle. “I’ll take one, bud.”

  Porter holds up his. “I’m ready for another.”

  The empty bottles clank when I toss them into the trash.

  “Your turn, huh?” Bridgette says.

  “Something like that.”

  God, Warren’s wife has a toddler on her lap and she looks like she’s going to pop out another one any minute.

  “How’s the new house?”

  “It’s great. Getting out of that condo and into my own place has been a good move.”

  Lawry comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

  My sister has enjoyed taking the credit for my decision, but she’s right. I have her to thank for the push in the right direction.

  “I had a meeting with your lovely neighbor yesterday.” Lovely badass neighbor. “We finalized everything for the grand opening.”

  “When is that, again?” Bridgette asks.

  “Saturday.”

  “No offense, but I hope I’m not there because I’m in the hospital holding a baby instead.”

  “That would suit me fine. I don’t think your poor belly will last beyond the weekend.”

  “Or my bladder.” Bridgette lifts her sleepy son from her lap. “Tripp, go see Auntie Wren for a while.”

  Lawry takes him from his mother. “Come to me, sweet boy.”

  “Ava, do you need to go potty?” Ava shakes her head and returns to playing with her plastic ponies.

  Bridgette struggles to get up from her seat and waddles in the direction of the bathroom as she holds her lower stomach.

  “Poor thing is miserable.”

  “You’ll be waddling around like that before you know it.”

  “Gotta get pregnant first.” Lawry kisses Tripp’s head. “But it’s okay. I’m not discouraged because we weren’t successful the first time we tried. They told us it would probably take a while.”

  “Don’t worry, sis. It’s going to happen.”

  “I know.”

  “Adelyn told me you met at El Barrio’s for dinner.” She sounded as though she really enjoyed her time with Lawry. “She likes you. I think
she’d like to be friends.”

  “It was a very enlightening get together.”

  I bet my get-togethers with Adelyn have been far more enlightening. “How so?”

  “She had much to share about all the time you’ve been spending together. You can imagine my surprise since you’ve not mentioned a word about it, you little s-h-i-t.” Lawry covers Tripp’s ears as she spells out the profanity.

  “I don’t think you have to cover his ears if you’re going to spell the cuss words.”

  “Shut up.”

  I guess I need to throw Lawry a bone. “We’ve been getting together a little.”

  “She left me with the impression you were getting together quite a bit.” Funny how easy and comfortable it’s been. Started as a day here and there but has gradually increased to nearly every day.

  “I guess.” I don’t want Lawry to read too much into this. It’s not like anything romantic is happening.

  “You could have invited her over tonight.”

  Asking Adelyn to come to my sister and brother-in-law’s house on a Saturday night with our other friends would be like . . . a date. “That would have been weird.”

  “How often do you see her?”

  “I physically see her every day. It’s sort of impossible not to when she lives fifty yards away.”

  “I don’t think it’s impossible. How often do you spend time together?”

  “I don’t know. Not like I’m keeping an appointment book.”

  “Stop avoiding the question. A couple times a week?”

  She isn’t going to let this go. “Probably more.”

  “Did you see her Monday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tuesday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wednesday? Thursday? Friday?”

  “Not Wednesday.” I had a business meeting with a client in Tuscaloosa that day.

  “Today?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve seen Adelyn every day this week with the exception of one.”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is you have a girlfriend, and you didn’t tell me.”

  I knew she was going to do this. “Adelyn is not my girlfriend.”

  “You don’t see a woman every day unless she’s something to you. And I can promise you this: she thinks she’s something to you.”

  “She is. We’re friends.”

  “With benefits?”

  There’s been some minor flirtation. That’s it. “No.”

  “Would you like for there to be? And please answer with your head. Don’t allow any appendages to speak on your behalf.”

  “I like Adelyn but I feel like pursuing something romantic or sexual could ruin our friendship.” I don’t even know if she’s dated since Martin. It’s possible he may have ruined any chance for her to have a normal relationship.

  “You’re not sleeping with her because you like her?” God, that makes me sound like a pussy.

  I look toward the living room to make sure the guys aren’t listening. Porter wouldn’t get finished ragging on me if he overheard any part of this conversation. “As dumb as that sounds, yeah.”

  “It’s not dumb, Ollie.”

  “She’s had a rough past with men. I’m not sure where her head is when it comes to dating.”

  “I wasn’t under the impression she’d be scared off by you. Everything she said made me think the opposite.”

  “You think she’d be open to pursuing something with me?”

  “This is what I know: she lit up like a candle when she talked about you.”

  I’ve had multiple flings since Eden. But I didn’t go into a single one with intentions of becoming more than sex and a good time.

  I don’t think that’s an option with Adelyn. She needs solid. Substantial. Secure. It’s what she deserves after the things she went through with that abusive asshole. But am I able to offer more than sex and a good time?

  “It would be thoughtless of me to pursue something fleeting with Adelyn. She’ll want more.”

  “It’s been three years since Eden broke your heart. Maybe it’s time you give love another chance.”

  I see what my sister and Tap have. They’re happy. Moving forward with their lives. Preparing to start their family. Don’t I want something like that? A partner in life? The other half of my soul?

  “I need time to think about it.”

  “You care about her, little brother. Admit it.”

  I’m saved from confirming or denying Lawry’s theory by a waddling pregnant woman. “Y’all, my water just broke.”

  “Oh my God.” Lawry squeals like a little girl. “Baby’s coming?”

  A puddle collects on the floor at Bridgette’s feet. Gross. “Oh, yeah. I’m not peeing on myself. This is definitely happening.”

  “Warren. Get in here. Your wife’s water just broke.”

  He bolts into the kitchen with Tap and Porter behind him. His eyes are fucking huge. “You’re sure, baby?”

  “This isn’t my first time to give birth. Trust me. I’m sure.”

  Warren rustles the top of Tripp’s hair. “Hear that, son? You’re getting your baby brother tonight.”

  A wife. Third baby on the way. Warren’s happy.

  A wife. First baby almost in the works. Tap’s happy.

  No wife but a secret girlfriend. Goofy smile plastered across his face. Porter’s happy.

  Feels like I’m being left behind. But am I ready to trade the life I have now for a chance at that kind of happiness? Like the stability and selfless love I see in Mom and Dad? I don’t know.

  I don’t fucking know.

  * * *

  I’m standing at my kitchen window peeking out at Adelyn’s place when I can’t help but notice the car pulling out of her drive. Hard not to notice when you’ve been watching your neighbor’s property since six on a Sunday morning because you want to know who spent the night at her house last night.

  Well, fuck me. It’s a man.

  Who the hell is he? Boyfriend she failed to mention? Date? Fuck buddy? Friend? Sure as shit ain’t Maurice based on what I know about him.

  I’m . . . fuck. I don’t know what I am.

  Confused? Definitely.

  Curious? Absolutely.

  Covetous? Fuck, yes.

  I know I am because I’m seething as I imagine all the things that went on at my neighbor’s last night. Pissed it wasn’t me with her.

  My phone pings and flashes a notification. It’s from her.

  Come over for brunch?

  Fuck. Her spend-the-night company hasn’t been gone five minutes and she’s inviting me over.

  Like a loyal dog, I want to go to her.

  But I’m not.

  Busy.

  She needs to call some other friend over if she wants to chat about her night of hot sex. This friend doesn’t want to hear it.

  OK. Maybe later if you’re hungry. The bug is biting.

  The baking bug is biting and she’s reaching out to me. Because. I’m. Her. Friend. She entrusted me with her darkest secret. And here I am being a total dick to her because I’m angry I wasn’t the one inside her last night.

  Fuck my feelings. She needs someone. And she’s asking for me.

  On my way.

  She motions for me to enter when I tap on the glass pane of her patio door. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  I analyze the spread of baked goods to survey the damage. Seems minimal so far but what triggered it?

  Did the man who stayed here last night hurt her?

  “Everything okay?” Dumb question. She’s baking so it clearly isn’t.

  She uses a roller to flatten and spread the dough on her marble island. “Oliver. I am a fucked-up individual. You should probably run away from me as fast as possible.”

  What the hell? “What’s going on?”

  “Chad came over last night. Tommy’s best friend who was in the accident with him. He’s had some kind of religious rev
elation and decided it’s time to forgive the drunk driver who killed Tommy.” Okay. But why did he stay the night?

  She stops rolling the pin and stares at the dough. “I feel so betrayed. So alone.”

  She stands motionless for a moment before picking up the dough and forming it into a ball in her hands. “My parents believe it isn’t our job to judge him. We’re supposed to show mercy and forgiveness. But I don’t want to forgive him. I want to hate him. Jill, Chad, and I all understood that. We felt the same.”

  “Who’s Jill?”

  “Tommy’s fiancée. One of my two best friends.”

  Adelyn flattens the dough and goes to work on it with the rolling pin again. “He wants to go see him in prison. And he wants me to go with him.” I’m still questioning why this guy stayed the night. And maybe there’s a way to ask without coming off looking like an asshole.

  “He came to town specifically for that? To go see the guy?” Sounds like a safe enough way to find out what went on over here last night. Unless she tells me something I don’t want to hear.

  “Yeah. He and his wife drove in from Florida last night.” Oh. Missed. Seeing. The. Wife. My bad.

  “What do you want?”

  “Not to go see my brother’s killer.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Right after the sentencing, I had this very clear picture of his face in my mind. But as time passed, that image has become fuzzier. Sometimes I try to recall what he looks like, and I can if I try really hard, but I like not having a clear vision of him. It makes him look less human and more like the monster he is.”

  “I get it.” Sadly, not all those convicted of crimes are monsters, but I can definitely see why she feels that way.

  She stops rolling the dough and her eyes meet mine. “Again, you’re the one who understands me and where I’m coming from.”

  “I do.” There’s so much pain in her eyes. Agony. I want to make it better for her. But I have no idea how to do that.

  She looks down at her therapy. “I’ve totally fucked this up. It won’t be edible. How ’bout waffles instead?” She looks up at me and I am nearly blindsided by her sorrow and disappointment. But then her small smile makes an appearance, and I’m more than transfixed. Waffles. She wants to make me waffles.