Every Kiss You Steal: A Redeeming Love Novel (Book 7)

by Parker, J. E.

  Anthony cleared his emotion-clogged throat. "Dad?" he asked, his voice raspy. "Is that what you're calling me now?"

  Vision blurred, I nodded. "If it's okay with you. I mean, I sorta think it's time."

  The smile he beamed my way was so bright, there was no mistaking it through the hazy cloud of tears clouding my vision. "Me too, Principessa. In fact, I think—"

  Whatever he was about to say was cut short when the heavy front door swung open, and the Crazy Old Biddy stepped inside holding an aluminum foil-covered casserole dish in her hands. "Felix!" she hollered. "Bring my grandcat down here, you old goat! I made him a special tuna—"

  Her eyes flared when she caught sight of me, plus the dog in the middle of the floor. "What in the good Lord's name is that?" she asked, clutching her pearls with her free hand.

  Dad chuckled. "That's Ziggy Bear," he said. "He's Ashley and Lucca's new dog."

  "Dog?" Her voice was one of disbelief. "That ain't no dog. It's a dadgum polar bear!"

  Grandmama continued hollering, but I had no idea what she said, because Ziggy licked my face again, stealing every bit of my attention. "Hey, buddy," I whispered, looking him in the eyes. "My name is Ashley Jo, and I think you and I are going to become the best of friends."

  His reply came in the form of a short howl, followed by another lick across my cheek.

  And just like that, one of the most heartbreaking days of my life literally became one of the most beautiful moments I'd ever experienced.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chase

  I was losing my damn mind.

  Since leaving the mall, I hadn't been able to reach Ashley.

  I'd called her at least half a dozen times and sent more texts than I could count, yet each call went straight to voicemail, and my messages remained unread.

  It was pissing me off.

  Though I wasn't mad at her for obviously ignoring me, I sure as hell was mad at myself and the horrible way I'd behaved earlier. I had no right—absolutely no damn right—to act like an asshole toward her, the sweetest girl I'd ever met.

  The words I used, and the tone I'd taken...

  I deserved to have my ass kicked for both.

  Suffice to say, I'd messed up.

  Badly.

  I just hoped I hadn't destroyed things beyond repair. If I had, I'd never forgive myself for breaking her heart, especially when I was pretty damn sure she was in the process of stealing mine right out of my chest.

  From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was different, and even if I still didn't understand how or why our connection happened, I refused to deny its existence, because deep in my gut, I knew that Ashley was meant to be mine.

  It was a truth I felt soul-deep.

  Blowing out a breath and needing to talk to her more than anything else, I dialed her number one more time. To my disappointment, it didn't even ring. Just like the times before, it went straight to her automated voicemail greeting.

  For fuck's sake.

  "Goddammit," I mumbled, waiting for the greeting to end so I could leave a message. "Baby, please turn on your damn—"

  Beep.

  "Ashley, it's Chase," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Sweetness, listen. I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. Even though my words and anger weren't aimed at you, I had no right to behave the way I did." That was putting it lightly. "I've told you before that I won't stand by and let someone treat you like shit, and that includes myself."

  If I could've kicked my own ass, I would've.

  "I messed-up, beautiful girl and I fully expect you to rip me a new one for it. Hell, I deserve nothing less. Just please call me back. I can handle you being angry, and I can handle you crying—even if it does tear me up to see and hear—but, baby, I can't deal with not knowing whether you're safe or not." Lifting my hand, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm not sure what time I'll make it to the fairgrounds, but I'll be there, waiting for you next to the Ferris Wheel."

  Fist clenched, I was tempted to slam my hand into the dash. Somehow, I found the strength to resist. "I hope you're there too."

  If she wasn't, I'd find her.

  One damn way or another.

  "Miss you, Sweetness."

  Out of words to say, I ended the call, my frustration reaching a record-breaking level, and glanced at the illuminated numbers on my dashboard.

  Nearly two hours had passed since I'd received a call from my twisted fuck of a father, the last person I'd wanted to hear from. With a demand to meet him, followed by a well-delivered threat stating that he'd show up at the fire station where Ty worked if I didn't, I had no other choice but to bend to his will and drive to the abandoned parking lot he'd picked.

  If he showed up at the station, it would only end one of two ways. The first would involve Ty being hauled to county lock-up for assault and battery, while the second would involve Clyde physically attacking my brother, which was always one of his favorite pastimes.

  Neither was an option.

  The problem was, I wasn't sure what the asshole wanted, though I had a pretty good idea. And that idea? It involved—

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I snapped my head to the left, my gaze going to the window next to me when someone tapped on the glass three times in rapid succession. When I saw who was standing there, his psycho eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray Bans, my temper instantly flared, nearly blowing the top of my head off.

  Consumed with thoughts of Ashley, I hadn't even seen him pull up.

  It didn't matter though, because he was there all the same.

  Mad as hell over the entire situation, I opened my door and slammed it into his side, hitting the service weapon attached to his utility belt with a thud. He stumbled back, a snarl forming on his stubble-covered face.

  "Watch it, Clyde," I said, jumping out of my Jeep, the very same one Ty bought me the day I was offered a conditional scholarship to CSU. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt, now would we?"

  Anger brewed in my father's hate-filled eyes.

  Too bad I didn't give a shit.

  "One day, kid," he fired back, right cheek twitching. "One day, you're going to get exactly what you deserve."

  What exactly did he think I deserved? I may have been a hothead who had a tendency to use his fists instead of his words in certain situations, but I wasn't a bad person. I didn't go around causing trouble or purposely hurting people.

  Unlike him.

  "You want to hit me? Maybe even beat my ass like you used to do my big brother's?" I lifted my hands and beckoned for him to come closer. "Because if so, then come on. I'm not fucking scared of you. Not anymore."

  It was the truth.

  The evil bastard had terrified me when I was a kid.

  But now? The thought was laughable.

  He may have been big, but so was I.

  At eighteen, I was six foot three and weighed two-thirty. The man standing before me may have been a formidable threat years before, but right then, he was nothing more than an old man who'd spent far too many years surviving on cheap liquor and fast food.

  When he made no move to swing at me, I leaned back against my car, appearing relaxed even though I was anything but. Crossing my arms over my chest, I chuckled. "Start talking, asshole," I said, not the least bit amused. "You called me and demanded I meet you here, so go ahead and tell me exactly what the hell it is that you want."

  Eyes narrowed into tiny slits, he plastered on the same sadistic grin he used to wear each time he beat Ty until he no longer possessed the strength to stand.

  I fucking hated him.

  So much.

  "What I want," he said, finally speaking. "Is what I'm owed."

  He had to be kidding me.

  One look at his face, and I realized that nah, he wasn't kidding.

  "And what is it that you think you're owed, dipshit? Cause the only two things I can think of end up with you in either a casket or a jail cell. Take your pick."

  His hand went to his gu
n, casually resting on it.

  Refusing to show any fear, I didn't react.

  "What I'm owed," he snapped, "is a shit-load of money."

  I'd like to say it was the first time he'd ever asked Ty or me for money, but it wasn't. Not even close. The only difference between this time and the ones that came before, was that he'd called me instead of Ty.

  I gritted my back teeth together so hard I was surprised they didn't crack. "Hate to break it to you, old man," I replied, my temper climbing even further. "But I don't have any money. In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have a job."

  It was partially the truth.

  Because of football and then conditioning workouts during the off-season, I'd never had time to get a part-time job like a lot of other kids my age.

  Instead, I'd picked up shifts at my Papaw's private security company when he needed someone to fill in. It wasn't lucrative, nor was it steady, but it was something at least.

  Getting to spend extra time with Ty, who worked there when he wasn't on shift at the fire station was just an added bonus.

  But none of that mattered.

  I doubted my father was interested in the lousy three-hundred bucks I had in my checking account. No, if he was asking me for money, then it meant he was desperate. And by desperate, I mean he likely owed a bookie or loan shark a shit ton of cash.

  A habitual gambler, he'd never been good with money.

  The dumb fuck.

  I can't begin to tell you how many times he'd come to Ty, the same kid he'd spent over a decade abusing, expecting him to hand him however much cash he needed.

  It was complete bullshit.

  "You're going to get me what I need, Chase," he said, pulling me from my thoughts. "Or else you'll regret it."

  Threats on top of more threats.

  It's how he operated.

  Never seemed to get him very far though.

  "How much cash you need this time, Clyde?" I asked, more out of curiosity than need. "One, two grand?"

  "Five," he answered, without hesitation. "And not a penny less."

  Laughter spilled out of me. "You have got to be kidding me," I said, uncrossing my arms. "You want me to get you five grand? And where exactly am I supposed to get that kind of money? Go ahead, tell me, since I'm sure you already have it figured out."

  "Ask your brother or your Papaw," he answered, cracking his neck. "I don't give a shit either way as long as you get me what I'm owed."

  "You aren't owed shit," I fired back. "I don't know where you get the balls—"

  "I fucking raised you!" he screamed, cutting me off. "I raised you, and your worthless goddamn brother after your whore of a mama ran off, abandoning you both!"

  Like a wire pulled too taut, I snapped.

  Fueled by the rage boiling in my veins, I slammed my clenched fist into his nose without thinking twice. Bone crunched, and blood poured down his chin as he stumbled back, his sallow eyes filled with the promise of retribution.

  "You didn't fucking raise me!" I screamed, my chest vibrating from the force of my words. "My brother did!"

  "That no-good, piece of shit didn't raise you!" he screamed in return, cupping his busted nose with his hands. "I did!"

  The man was delusional.

  Absolutely and completely delusional.

  "Yeah?" I asked, swiping my palm across my sweat covered face. "So it was you that cooked my supper, bathed me, and tucked me into bed every night? No, wait, it was you that helped me with homework and taught me how to throw a football, right? Fuck no, it wasn't you! It was Ty, the kid who took over your role the moment I was born!"

  Emotion gripped me, nearly overloading every bit of common sense I had. Tempted to pummel his face until the only thing that remained was a broken shell of a human being, I was close to losing it.

  The man did not deserve to live.

  Not after everything he'd done.

  "Tell me, Dad," I said, the word rolling off my tongue with a foul taste. "Why did you hate my big brother so much? He was just a kid. What the hell could he have ever done—"

  "He was born!" he screamed, cutting me off mid-sentence. "He was born, and I hate him for it!"

  I was speechless, and for the first time in my life, I looked at the man who'd helped create me with an emotion other than fear and anger.

  That emotion? Pity.

  "You're pathetic," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Pathetic because you can't see what a great man Ty is." I shook my head. "Even if I only turn out to be half as good as him, I'll still be a hundred times better than you."

  Never taking my eyes off him—I wouldn't have put it past him to shoot me—I reached behind me and opened the door to my Jeep. "Go find your money somewhere else, because you'll never get a dime from me."

  Face red as could be, he smiled, making alarm bells ring in my head. "From what I hear, you've got a great future ahead of you, son," he said, wiping the blood from his face with his hand. "It'll be real nice to see if you make it to the NFL like a few sports journalists are predicting."

  Knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, I shot him a go-to-hell look. "Do me a favor, Clyde," I said, climbing back into my car. "Forget I exist." It was my turn to smile. "Better yet, drop the fuck dead."

  With nothing left to say, I slammed my door shut, started the engine, and took off.

  * * *

  Speeding down the highway, I dialed my brother's number.

  Like Ashley, he didn't answer, and instead, his voicemail picked up. "Christ, almighty," I mumbled, turning down the blaring radio. "Everybody is ignoring my ass today."

  Needing to say the words rolling around in my head before it exploded, I waited for the familiar beep to sound.

  When it did, I let each syllable roll off my tongue without giving any of them a second thought. "Ty, it's me, your favorite pain in the ass. Listen, I know you're probably out on a call since you didn't answer, but I just wanted you to know that I love you, assmunch. I realize I don't say it enough, and that's something I'm going to work on, but I hope you understand how much I appreciate all the shit you've done for me. Without you..."

  Pausing, I pulled the phone from my ear and took a breath before beginning to speak once more. "Without you, I wouldn't have made it this far, and even though I don't know what the future holds, I hope I make you proud someday."

  Done with the sappy shit, I gripped the phone tight. "By the way, if I don't come home tonight, it's because Grandmama shot and buried me in the backyard since I'm pretty sure I made my girl cry today."

  Saying those words...

  It made me sick.

  "I'm going to hang up in a second, dickhead. But first, I just want to add—be careful on whatever calls you go on tonight, man." Another pause. "Because I sure as hell don't know what I'd do without you. Love you, big brother. Always have. Always will."

  I ended the call as a lone tear slid down my cheek.

  More than ready to start fixing every mistake I'd made, I stomped on the Jeep's accelerator and held on tight as the engine roared and then rocketed me down the highway toward the Toluca Fairgrounds.

  "Please," I mumbled, silently praying to whatever God was listening. "For fuck's sake, please let my girl still be there."

  Unfortunately for me, like many that had come before it, my prayer went unanswered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ashley

  It was half past eleven.

  Alone in the dark of the night, I laid on the porch overhang next to my two-story bedroom window, my eyes fixated on the cloudless, twinkling southern sky.

  Exhausted after spending the evening at the fair, my parents plus Lucca were all asleep, and Felix who was working an overnight maintenance shift at the shelter, had left me in charge of caring for Angel, a task that despite my broken-hearted state, I didn't mind doing one single bit.

  Laying at the foot of my bed, curled against a snoring Ziggy, he was sleeping peacefully. The sight made me smile. Not just because
they'd bonded the moment they met, but because it seemed as though they were destined to be together.

  Like two peas in a pod.

  Even though seeing them like that made my heart happy, it also made it hurt too. The pain was straight-up agonizing as images of Chase's smiling face danced in the forefront of my mind, bringing with them a slew of unanswered questions, each more pressing than the last.

  Though I hadn't spoken to him since the mall, I had seen him at the fair. The problem was, he didn't see me. Seated atop the Ferris Wheel with Clara, I'd been looking down at him as he literally looked everywhere but up.

  Once the ride came to a stop, I'd acted like a complete coward and dodged him by scurrying off to talk with Clara's boyfriend, Brantley—who also happened to be Evan's twin brother, as well as my new neighbor—about a part-time job opening at his newly established law firm.

  It was a job which I'd secured.

  While my parents were proud as could be of me getting hired right off the bat, I was anything but. With the events of the day bearing down on me, crushing me under its formidable weight, I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

  Thanks to the toxic-venom Bianca had spewed all over me, combined with the way Chase had acted right before walking away earlier in the day, my head was a mess.

  And my heart? It just hurt.

  As hard as I tried—and trust me, I'd analyzed every word, facial reaction, and past encounter—I couldn't make sense of who was lying and who was telling the truth.

  Part of me wanted to believe that Bitchy Bianca was nothing less than evil and attempting to start trouble, but what would the point of that be? Lies certainly had the potential to tear Chase and me apart before we ever truly got started, but they wouldn't get her the one thing she wanted, which was him.

  However, the other part—the anxiety-riddled and damaged one—had trouble believing that everything Chase had said and done since we met was genuine, even if Bianca was spilling half-truths.