Be Mine
Jackson Boys, Book 2
Jen Frederick
This book is for the readers. You’ve stuck with me for so many years and I’ll never be able to repay you for all your love and support. Enjoy!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Also by Jen Frederick
Charlotte Chronicles
Undeclared
Unspoken
Unraveled
Undressed
Unrequited
#GetSacked
#GetJockblocked
#GetDowned
About the Author
Chapter One
Lainey
At the age of twenty, I’d made enough mistakes for a lifetime. One of those mistakes is currently losing his head fifteen feet away from me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m already saddled with some third-round rookie this year. I don’t have time for this shit.” Chip Peters’ voice bleeds through the closed den door. Despite his gobs of money earned from his NFL contract, he’d only sprung for a duplex for his mom, and a cheap one at that. I’m two rooms away and can hear their entire conversation through the thin walls. I try to shut out their voices and re-apply myself to my task at hand. The tile floor in this bathroom isn’t going to clean itself.
“It’s not going to take but two jerks of a cow’s tail,” his mom responds. “There’s got to be something up at that big stadium that Lainey can do. Mr. Marvola said she was a very hard worker. My floors have never been cleaner.”
Chip makes a disgusted sound. “Even the janitors at the Mustang stadium have at least a high school degree. That Valdez chick dropped out at seventeen.”
That Valdez chick. It’s a good thing that I stopped caring what Chip Peters thought of me years ago or my body would be burning with shame. Instead, it’s anger and self-directed disgust at ever thinking that he was a decent person. I blow out a frustrated breath and scrub harder, pretending that the hard ceramic beneath my knees is really Chip’s face. It’s a decent motivator.
“Well, that’s because she got pregnant. Besides, I think she has her GED. I’m sure if you said something, the team would hire her on. You’re the quarterback, for goodness sake.”
“Mom, you’ve got to stop doing charity for people who are a waste of your time. Valdez is probably going to snort up any money she makes anyway. Why do you even care? You’re rich now. You don’t have to pretend to care about your trashy neighbors.”
We are not trashy, Chip. I slap the rag into the bucket and wring it out. We’re poor. There’s a difference between trashy and poor. Like Chip’s actual garbage and he’s worth millions.
“Now, Chip, the Valdezes helped me out when I was young and raising you by myself. It’s only right that I help them now if I can. Guadalupe Valdez has a touch of dementia and really needs full-time care from her daughter. Having Lainey and the baby around is causing a lot of problems for that family—” Mrs. Peters’ voice lowers enough that I can’t make out what she says, but I can make a good guess because Mrs. Peters is the first person that my momma goes to when she has a complaint about me.
Granted, in my twenty years, I’ve given Momma a lot of ammunition. It’s a miracle she still lets me in the front door of the house, so when she criticizes me, which is about every time she opens her mouth, I grin and bear it. It’s not like I have a real defense. I got knocked up at age seventeen, refused to name the baby daddy, and dropped out of high school to support myself and my kid.
Since I don’t have any education and zero experience, manual labor is all I can do, and in this small town the only work I’ve been able to scrounge up is cleaning houses, but it’s not enough to keep Cassidy in formula and diapers. Daycare is almost as scarce as work. I need to move to a bigger city.
When Chip got traded from Seattle to Dallas, Momma couldn’t stop talking about how it’d be a real good thing if I got a job in the city.
Just for once, do as you’re told, Momma said. Her voice was so tired. I don’t have time to worry about you and that kid of yours.
I can get another job, I argued, but Momma wasn’t having it. She’d packed up my things, gave me five hundred dollars and a handgun which was essentially her way of saying it was time to take care of myself.
Mrs. Peters seized on this and the two cooked up a plan to get Chip to help out. I knew he wouldn't help. If he saw me lying in in the middle of the road, he’d accelerate and then back up and drive over my bones again.
He hates me. He hates Cassidy. He wishes I would just disappear. Hauling me to Dallas with him is about the last thing on this green earth that he wants to do.
“Maybe the little shit should have thought of that before she got knocked up,” Chip says.
“Maybe you should’ve kept your dick to yourself,” I mutter under my breath. I dump the dirty water down the toilet and grab my cleaning supplies. He’s lucky I don’t spill the whole story to his mother, but he knows my lips are sealed tight. I don’t want anyone to know that story. Just thinking about it myself makes me sick.
“What’s done is done,” Mrs. Peters says with a sigh. Her nasally voice is easy to hear as I creep down the hall toward the back door. “The cow is out. The barn door is open. Mrs. Valdez can’t handle that baby and her mom all by herself. Besides, Lainey’s twenty now. She needs to learn to be independent. And, maybe in Dallas, she can find a man who will take both of them on. Lainey’s a pretty girl.”
“Jesus, Mom, no man is that desperate.”
“Chip…” she chastises.
There’s a beat of silence and my feet get stuck to the ground, waiting for Chip’s reply. If he’s capable of loving anyone, it’s his mother. My stomach swirls in anxiety. It’s not that I don’t want to move to Dallas. That actually sounds awesome. There is more opportunity there. More daycare options. More jobs. Better opportunities for Cass. But I don’t want anything to do with Chip. Just being in the same house as him is making my skin crawl.
“Fine. I’ll find her a job in Dallas, but that’s all I’m going to do. I’m not her fucking guardian. If she fucks up the job I find her, she’s on her own.”
A door slams, startling me into gear. I scurry down the stairs, but the footsteps behind me grow louder. I suck in my breath and move faster, praying that the person behind me is Mrs. Peters.
But it’s not to be. When I reach the back door, a large hand comes out to slam against the frame. I jump and then curse myself for showing any response to Chip.
“I’m leaving at eleven on Friday. If you’re not here at that time, I’ll leave without you.”
I can’t find my voice. I can barely bring myself to look at him, so, with my head lowered, I nod.
Not facing him is a mistake because Chip likes to see me terrified. He reaches out, grabs my jaw and forces me to look at him. His face is twisted into a cruel mask. “You’re so fucking lucky my mom has a soft heart. If it were up to me—”
“You’d let me rot,” I interrupt. With a jerk of my head, I wrench out of his grip. “Don’t worry. Onc
e we get to Dallas, you won’t have to see me again.”
“I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” The smile that spreads across his face sends a spike of terror down my spine.
Three days later, I find myself in some rundown industrial park on the west side of the city. Chip’s face is red, Cassidy’s wailing in the back seat, and I’m about to be eaten alive with the anxiety of it all. It’s only a two-hour drive to Dallas, but every minute felt like an hour.
Cassidy’s teething and she fussed the whole trip. Chip yelled at her to shut the fuck up, which made Cass cry only harder. The more she cried, the louder he shouted. My headache’s bigger that this state.
“Where are we?” I ask, reaching around to unbuckle Cass from her car seat. She lurches toward the door and bangs her tiny hands against the window, wanting out desperately.
“I got a meeting. Stay here,,” Chip snaps and hops out of the car.
“What do you mean, you have a meeting? You can’t leave us in the car. It’s a hundred and two degrees.” I scramble after him, pulling Cassidy into my arms. She squirms, wanting to run around after the to Dallas, but this rundown bar and its cracked, asphalt parking lot doesn’t look safe for her.
“Mama, let go,” Cassidy whines. “Down. Down!”
“Just a minute.” I juggle her again. “Look, Chip, I appreciate your help, but—”
“Down! Down!” Cass yells.
Chip throws her a glare hot enough to turn us both to ash. “I’ve listened to your fucking brat cry for three hours. I have a meeting inside and you’re not invited.”
“It was only two hours,” I argue. “And it’s one o’clock. Cass is tired.”
“Do I look like someone who cares?” He turns on his heel and walks into the building. I turn around to get back into the truck, but I find it’s locked. My throat aches from swallowing all the things I want to yell at his stupid head. It’s July, for God’s sake, and there’s no shade here. Cass is going to get heat stroke.
“Mama, me hurt,” cries Cass as she pushes her little hands against my arm.
“Sorry.” I loosen my grip and set her on her feet. “Come on, baby, we have to go inside for a minute. Can you promise to be quiet?”
“Hungry! Hungry!” she yells.
My anxiety climbs into my throat and threatens to choke me. I dig into my purse and pull out a plastic baggie filled with apple sauce. I can’t afford the snack pack varieties. “Here, baby.” I cut off the corner and hand her the bag. “Eat it slow, okay?”
She nods, but I know it’s going to be gone in a nanosecond. I grab her hand again, but she moves at the same time. The plastic baggie pops and applesauce squirts into the air, splashing Cass in the face and me on my blue T-shirt. Cass immediately starts wailing. I drop to my knees and scramble to get a wash cloth out of my purse, only in my haste I knock the damn thing over. Diapers, formula, teething rings and clothes scatter onto the dusty parking lot.
Cassidy spies her favorite stuffed animal and lunges for him. I try to stop her, but my foot slips on some pebbles. I fall. She falls. More wails fill the air.
I feel myself losing the thin thread of self-control. What was I thinking, coming to Dallas by myself? Did I really believe I could raise Cass on my own? But what choice do I have? Momma couldn’t have been happier to see me leave. She was practically pushing me out the door this morning. But here I am in this huge city with no job, a short-term rental, and the only person I know would prefer to step on my neck than help me to my feet.. I can’t do this. Defeat swamps me. Two feet away, Cassidy cries even harder.
The sound of her unhappiness ratchets up my own distress. My stomach twists into five kinds of knots and there’s a lump in my throat the size of a boulder. If I open my mouth, I worry I’m going to start crying and never stop.
Buck up, sister. You asked for this, I remind myself. Chip would’ve paid for the abortion, but you refused. Pick yourself up off the ground, comfort your beautiful child and keep moving forward.
I take three deep breaths, swipe a hand across my eyes, and begin gathering my scattered things. As I’m picking up the wipes and the formula, a few pebbles skitter next to my knee. Shade appears out of nowhere and when I look up to see whether a sudden storm’s coming, I see a large figure bend down to my level.
“Here,” a deep voice says. In his hand, Cass’s diapers are dwarfed. Long fingers curl around the white cotton. The skin around the knuckles are slightly abraded, as if he struck them against something. These are a man’s hands—big, strong and capable. For a moment, because I’m tired and feeling weak, I imagine those hands around my waist. I imagine those hands sliding up under my T-shirt and finding my breasts. My nipples tighten and my boobs grow heavy. Somewhere down south of my waistband, muscles twitch to life that I thought had died from disuse and disinterest.
After Chip, I swore off men. I haven’t had so much as a glass of water with a man since I learned I was pregnant, so maybe that’s the reason that I nearly fall over at the sight of the male crouched down beside me. He’s so beautiful—dark hair, blue eyes, and shoulders broad enough that they look like they could carry the whole world and not ever get tired. Maybe it’s his looks or maybe it’s his silent act of kindness in picking up all the shit I spilled that is responsible for my sudden lack of breath.
“Can I?” He points to Cass with one of the faded washrags I’ve tucked in my purse.
I nod like a dumb kid meeting her idol for the first time, not even caring that the washrags are literal rags—threadbare and dotted with holes. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the condition of the cloths either. He plucks one from my purse and pats it across Cass’s wet cheeks. She, like me, has been stunned into silence.
“There you go.” He taps her awkwardly on the head, as if he’s never been around a baby before.
A gummy smile breaks across my baby’s face. “Dada.” She waves her hands in the air.
The single word breaks my spell, and I surge to my feet, sweeping her up in my arms. My whole body turns red with embarrassment, but I force myself to turn toward my good Samaritan. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” he grins, seemingly unbothered by my child calling him Daddy. “She’s a doll. Is your mom inside?” He tips his head toward the front door of the bar.
At first, I don’t know what he’s saying but then I realize he thinks Cass is my sister. After enduring nearly three years of judgmental stares, you’d think I’d be all out of cares to give, but, nope. My cheeksI burn with more embarrassment. “No, she’s mine.”
“Oh, ah, okay,” he stammers in surprise. “You…work here? I mean, I haven’t seen you before.” He shakes his head. “That sounds like I live at this bar, which I don’t.” He clears his throat and then sticks out his hand. “Nick Jackson.”
Cass leans over and throws out her arms. “Dada.”
Is there a color more red than red? Because that’s what shade I am now.
“Cass, you know he’s not,” I say more sharp than I mean too.
Her lower lip quivers again.
“It’s okay,” Nick winks.
I feel that cheeky gesture all the way down to my toes and it draws a smile from both me and my kid.
“What the hell is going on out here?” booms Chip’s voice.
I close my eyes in mortification. If the universe could allow me to start this day over, that would be great.
“Oh, hey, Chip. I was just coming in. Has the coach arrived?”
“No. Who are these two?”
I open my mouth but snap it shut at Chip’s glare. I didn’t graduate from high school, but I can put a simple puzzle together. My ex doesn’t want me to acknowledge him in front of this Nick Jackson person who, from the size and shape of him, must be a fellow pro player. Of course, I’m attracted to Nick.
“I don’t know. I just found them here. We haven’t completed the introductions.” He smiles again and a dimple forms.
My world shifts on its axis. I could pour wat
er in those dimples and swim a backstroke—they’re that deep. I clutch Cass tighter to my chest, as if reminding myself what happened the last time I let my ovaries get the better of me.
“Don’t bother. Come on inside,” Chip orders.
A light furrow appears on Nick’s forehead, as if Chip’s behavior puzzles him. The asshole doesn’t act like this around his team, I guess.
“I’m going to stick around out here for a minute,” Nick says.
“Your funeral, Rook,” Chip says. “But don’t forget the talk you were given last week about camp pussy. It’s diseased and dangerous.”
Nick winces while I fantasize about stuffing Chip’s mouth with one of Cass’s dirty diapers.
“He’s not talking about you,” Nick assures me.
“I bet,” I reply with a tight smile. “Thanks for your help, but I—“
As if sensing I’m about to take her away from her new best friend, my girl pushes herself out of my arms.
“Cass!” I cry in surprise, but she doesn’t fall. Instead, those capable hands sweep up and catch her easily. She squeals in happiness—a sound so pure that I can’t keep my smile from breaking across my face.
“She’s adorable,” he says, and for a moment, I don’t know if he’s talking about me or Cass. It’s got to be her. “You from Dallas?” he asks.
“No. I just got here. Today.” I know I’m coming off like a dunderhead, but I can’t seem to form complete sentences.
Be Mine Page 1
