When the Stars Come Out--A Cottonbloom Novel
Page 28
River, as intuitive and protective as ever, growled deep in her chest and put herself between Willa and Derrick, her back hair standing up like a Mohawk.
“How did you know where to find me?” she said after locating her tongue.
“News is all over the parish. Your mom can’t keep her effing mouth shut.”
“Stepmom.” Her correction was knee-jerk.
“Whatever.” He took a step forward. River’s growl crescendoed. “You going to call off your mutt?”
“Not until you tell me why you’re here. If you’re after money or drugs—”
He barked a laugh. “You think I’m still after my stash?”
“You threatened to burn down my dad’s shop or break his leg for it.”
“Yeah, years ago. Those boys I owed money to are either in lockup or dead. Life expectancy in that line of work ain’t great.”
“Then what do you want?”
He shifted and looked over his shoulder; a tattoo of a dagger ran from under his ear into the collar of his denim jacket. He probably wasn’t after a character reference for an office job then. A roiling fear under dark humor almost made her laugh. She bit the inside of her mouth, the pain grounding her.
“I’m on step nine,” he said. At the blank shake of her head, he added, “AA. Twelve steps. I’m on number nine; making amends.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think to say.
“So, I’m here. Making amends.”
“Okay. Consider them made. You can go now and don’t come back.”
The troubles he wore like a cloak reminded her of Clayton, down at Rufus’s, but while Clayton’s goodness dulled his dangerous edge, Derrick was downright threatening. None of the good-time charm she remembered remained. It was hard to reconcile the boy she’d thought she’d loved with this man.
“Doesn’t work like that. I need to tell you I’m sorry.” Aggression beat at his voice.
“You don’t sound sorry.” She delivered a load of sarcasm with her snark.
He blew out a breath and rolled his shoulders. “This shit is hard. Give me a break.”
“Do you think about her?” Anger was superseding her initial fear. “I found her with needle tracks up and down her arms, her mouth hanging open, her eyes bulged out.”
He winced like her words were a physical pain. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I see her like that every time I close my eyes.”
A shared regret was a more powerful bond than she imagined. “It was my fault for bringing her around. If I hadn’t—”
“I asked you out because I thought you were one of them.”
“One of who?”
“Needy girls with easy middle-class money. My bread and butter. But you weren’t so easy. I used you to lure in friends instead. Cynthia was ripe to get hooked. If it hadn’t been smack and me, it would have been alcohol or pot or pills later.”
“You don’t know that.” She felt obligated to defend her friend, but there was truth between them. Finally. Her guilt lost some of its weight.
The side door opened and Jackson strolled out. “The car’s ready to fire up. Thought you might—Who’s this?”
His voice was almost as growly as River, his demeanor even more protective. He came up next to her and put a hand on her arm, strong and ready to put her behind him if needed.
“It’s Derrick. He’s here as part of his twelve-step program. He’s … well, sort of apologizing.”
“This your man?”
“That’s right. If you’ve said your piece, you’d better get gone and never come back.” Jackson took a step forward, and Derrick took a step back. Jackson was bigger, stronger, and more intimidating.
Even though she could handle herself, his automatic protection of her only made her love him more. Before things could escalate, she laid a hand on his hard-as-stone biceps and murmured, “Back off, John Wayne, I got this.”
He shot her a look that said she’d pay for her dig later, but did as she asked. He planted himself behind her. So close she could feel his heat. The trust he put in her earned him extra points.
Derrick held up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I’m getting my life straightened out. Got a job up in Little Rock. Apartment. Working on getting a welding certificate. I’m sorry about everything that went down back then. You were a nice kid and didn’t deserve someone like me taking advantage of you.”
She shrugged, not knowing how else to handle the anticlimactic meeting. In all the scenarios that had kept her up at night, never had she imagined a relatively harmless Derrick seeking her forgiveness.
When she didn’t offer him a response, he turned around and trudged toward the parking lot with his head down.
“Wait!” She jogged to catch up with him. Jackson and River were close behind.
Wyatt and Mack were rolling the ’Cuda out of the garage bay, but they stopped as soon as they all rounded the corner.
“You’re really sorry?” She stared into his eyes and imagined remorse reflecting back. Was it real? Did it matter? He was giving her the opportunity to close the door on her past. A screen door anyway. Her mistakes would always shade her decisions, but hopefully to help her make better ones.
“I screwed your life up too. Look, you don’t have to forgive me, but I had to try. For my own sake,” he said.
He’d half turned away, the dagger on his neck facing her, when she said, “I forgive you.”
“You do?” He jerked back around to face her.
“Yeah,” she said slowly. She might have even meant it, but what she knew for sure was that she had finally forgiven herself. Her trip to see her dad and now this were steps on her own program of forgiveness. She retreated to notch herself under Jackson’s arm. “My life’s not screwed up anymore.”
Derrick nodded and smiled slightly. Whatever load he’d been carrying had lightened. “I’ll leave you to get on with life then.”
“You too, Derrick. Make it a good one.”
He waved over his head and climbed into his truck. Everyone was still and silent until his truck rounded the bend. Jackson shifted and put his hands at her waist. Wyatt slapped Mack on the arm, and they retreated to his office.
“How do you feel?” Jackson asked.
She had to turn over and examine the jumble inside of her. “I feel like I can finally look forward and not worry about what’s behind me. I feel … free.”
It was the perfect word. Light and soaring like a bird let out of its cage. She tipped her head back and smiled.
“I suppose this isn’t a good time to ask you to tie yourself down again, huh?”
Although the sky was cloudless and blue, she was sure lightning had struck. Her body was alive and electric. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“Hazel and Hyacinth are going to send their Bible study group over to take turns reciting scripture about sin if we keep on the way we’ve been doing.” Were those nerves in his voice? He bit his bottom lip, the confidence that marked him as much as hair or eye color was gone, leaving her blinking at him in consternation or something closer to shock.
Would it be cruel to tease him a little? “Should I stop by Country Aire and see if my old trailer is available?” she asked with the innocence of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“No!” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Do I?” She linked her hands around his neck, popped to her toes, and kissed him.
“Willyoumarryme?” His lips moved against hers, the words slurring together.
“Yes.” She pressed her lips against his cheek about where his dimple would be.
“I love you so damn much.”
“I love you too.” She kissed his jaw, the stubble rasping erotically against her lips.
“I don’t have a ring yet.”
“I can’t wear a ring in the garage anyway.” She took his earlobe between her teeth. His arms banded her close, his body hard in all the right places. Hers reacted swiftly and
predictably. “Will Wyatt kill us if we go celebrate in the loft instead of watching him fire up the ’Cuda?”
“Something tells me he’ll understand. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, and they quickstepped through the barn, heading toward the stairs to his loft.
She pulled him to a stop at the open doors in back. The woods stretched as far as she could see, the hint of new green interspersed with the dark green pines. Instead of making her feel boxed in, the expanse represented endless possibilities. The woods hadn’t changed; she had. And the catalyst of that change had been Jackson. His faith. His patience. His love.
She laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes still on the horizon. “I don’t want a fancy wedding like Sutton. Why don’t we find a justice of the peace and get married tomorrow? Do they even have those anymore or are they—”
His kiss took her breath away and any logical thought with it.
She assumed that was a yes.
Also by Laura Trentham
THE FALCON FOOTBALL SERIES
Slow and Steady Rush
Caught Up in the Touch
Melting Into You
THE COTTONBLOOM SERIES
Kiss Me That Way
Then He Kissed Me
Till I Kissed You
Candy Cane Christmas (novella)
Light Up the Night (novella)
Leave the Night On
About the Author
LAURA TRENTHAM is an award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance. She is a member of RWA, and has finaled multiple times in the Golden Heart competition. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Also by Laura Trentham
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
WHEN THE STARS COME OUT
Copyright © 2018 by Laura Trentham.
Cover illustration © Steve Gardner / Pixelworks. Cover photographs: Barn © Melissa Hanes / Shutterstock.com; Flowers © Rudy Lopez Photography / Shutterstock.com; Couple © Soleg / Shutterstock.com
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN: 9781250131294
Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / January 2018
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.