Bad Seed

by Rye Hart

  Walking into the house, I knocked off my boots, then went in search of my phone. I didn’t keep it on me while I was out in the fields. Too many things could break the thing like it was a cheap piece of plastic. But as I strode around my house trying to find it, panic started rising in my chest.

  I didn’t even know why. I just panicked.

  Picking up my phone, the screen lit up. No missed calls. No new text messages. No nothing. Delia hadn’t called, hadn’t messaged. I opened my phone and scrolled to her number, ready call just to hear her voice.

  But a sound coming up the driveway caught my attention.

  I ran toward the front door and whipped it open. The sound of a truck coming up the driveway sent my heart into overdrive. It was Delia. It had to be. Maybe she was coming to have lunch with me. Or maybe she left something behind. Or maybe her boss had sent her home and she was bringing her laptop over.

  I’d fucking take anything over this worry I felt boiling in the pit of my gut.

  But the moment Hank’s truck crested the horizon, my worry gave way to anger. I knew it wasn’t logical to be angry at the man for bringing Delia her truck, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Hey Drake,” Hank said, as he slammed his door shut. “You ready to go over tour dates?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Just stoppin’ for lunch.”

  “Then I’ll stay until you’ve got some time. We really gotta punch this stuff out before tomorrow,” he said.

  “You talked to Delia today?” I asked.

  “Nope. Haven’t heard from her. Why? Has something happened again?”

  “No, but that is my concern. She would’ve been fine if she hadn’t had her truck here to leave in.”

  “Drake, you can’t keep her prisoner here—”

  “I’m not keeping her prisoner,” I said with a roar. “I’m not her warden.”

  “You sure as hell are acting like one,” Hank said. “When she called asking for her truck, she gave me the rundown. Remember what your therapist keeps telling you.”

  “And what the fuck would you know about my therapist?” I asked.

  “He says with how you’re programmed, you’re gonna try to exert control over things when you start craving. You been craving?”

  “I don’t want fucking alcohol. I want Delia. I want the mother of my child safe in my arms. In this house, where I can watch over her and make sure she doesn’t end up--” I stopped myself. I was afraid of losing Delia like I'd lost Shannon and Ava. It was in my head, but I couldn't just make it go away.

  “You’re gonna have to get over that. You’re going on tour tomorrow, and she sure as hell isn’t coming along,” Hank said. “So whatever this control thing is you got goin’ on, squash it. Otherwise, you’re gonna lose her before you even had her.”

  “Hank, you know what I've been through, man. I can't just let her go. I can't lose her.”

  Hank sighed. “Been divorced twice, so I’m not the person to be consulting on women. My point is, you're trying to control her. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re just trying to run her life. She’s not an animal. She ain’t one of your pregnant heifers. She’s an independent woman who’s trying her best, and every time you go over her head, you’re telling her that her best ain’t good enough. That you can do better and she can’t. Cut that shit out.”

  “Thought you weren’t an expert on women,” I said.

  “I’m an expert on that. It’s what did my first marriage in. You made her a deal, Drake. That she could go home Sunday night.”

  “But this is our home,” I said.

  “No. It’s your home. Just because she’s pregnant with your kid don’t make this her home any more than wearing your clothes makes her you. You still gotta grow a relationship with that woman. A baby don’t set a precedence. Her walking around and growing your kid doesn’t automatically give you two history. Y’all gotta make that first.”

  “Your accent gets thicker when you’re mad, Hank,” I said.

  “Damn straight it does. Now get your ass together. We need to go over these dates.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Delia

  “Delia, come on. Why the hell are we doin’ this over the phone?”

  “Because I’m about to go into to work,” I said.

  “Why didn’t you come back yesterday? I waited up for you,” Drake said.

  “I needed a good night sleep and some quiet. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “You can’t get a good night sleep with me?”

  “I didn’t call you so we could fight. Again. What is it you want?” I asked.

  “Look, I got another tour that starts tomorrow. Six acoustic nights, since the guys in the band don’t think I’ll be any fun sober.”

  “That sounds good. It could help rehabilitate your public image,” I said.

  “Ya sound like Hank.”

  “Then Hank’s got a point.”

  “The last one’s in Nashville. Couple of weeks from now. Will you be there for it?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “Of course I want my girlfriend and the mother of my child there with me,” he said.

  “Then yeah. I’ll be there,” I said. Hearing him say those words brought a smile to my face. Even with all the problems, I still couldn't deny that I cared for this man, deeply.

  “I’ll have Hank set aside a ticket for you at will call. Just give them your name and you can get it. It’ll get you backstage and I can kiss you before I head on out to sing.”

  I shoved my earrings into my ears as Drake continued to rattle on. I didn’t go to his house after work on Monday because I was tired and upset. The fight we had that morning about me just going into work was enough to exhaust me, then I had to put in nine hours at work doing mindless paperwork. I had gotten away from Drake’s ranch and I wasn’t ready to go back. I wasn’t ready to fight him every time I had to leave to go to work.

  I knew he was just worried about me. After what happened to his wife, I couldn't blame him. However, this was my life. I couldn't fuck things up with this new job just because he couldn't get a grip. Besides, it scared me how fast I was falling for him, and how fast he seemed to be falling for me too.

  I hung up the phone with Drake and focused on work. I had a long day of paperwork waiting for me and my boss was hovering over me every second he could. My coworker was quickly becoming a wonderful support system, however. While I fussed with all the paperwork, Stacia was fussing with insurance and taking phone calls for appointments. We worked side by side a lot of the time, and she greeted me Monday morning with edible chocolate flowers sitting on my small desk.

  “Gotcha some coffee,” Stacia said. “It’s sittin’ on your desk. And it’s decaf so it’s safe for you to drink. Plus I loaded it up with chocolate syrup and creamer.”

  I groaned as I sat down and pulled out the files of paperwork I had to complete.

  “All right. I know that sound. Spill,” she said.

  “It’s bad that you know that sound. I’ve only worked here a week,” I said.

  “It’s that man of yours, isn’t it? Girl, he’s a hunk.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I sighed. “But he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

  “All men are pains in our asses, hon,” Stacia chuckled. “But we love 'em anyway.”

  “Love? Who said anything about love?” I giggled, trying to hide the color rising in my cheeks.

  Stacia gave me a look that said she could see right through me.

  “My question still stands, hon. Now, what’s goin’ on with you and Mr. Chiseled Jeans?” she asked.

  “He’s trying to control my every move,” I said. “Where I go. What I do. Where I sleep. I told you about the fight we had yesterday with just me leaving the house. Now he’s upset that I didn’t go back last night.”

  “Can ya blame him? You call him cryin’ from a hospital bed ‘bout bein’ pregnant with his kid, he comes a’runnin,’ then you just wanna shove him away again? You�
�re throwin’ the poor man under the bus for wantin’ to protect ya.”

  “He’s not protecting me. He’s controlling me.”

  “Potato, Potat-oh. Same damn difference,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “In his eyes, he is protecting you. He's scared shitless, girl, because he loves you and doesn't want to lose you. Maybe he's not goin' about it in the right ways, sure... You're independent, so of course if freaks ya out, but it's nothin' you can't work out. Take me and my man for instance - we have a routine. Breakfast on the table by seven, I usually cook. Nice strong coffee for him, oatmeal for me. We shower together, touch base durin' lunch to make sure the other one's doin' fine. Then I come home, and he's already started on dinner, whatever he's in the mood for. We cuddle on the couch, maybe some evening lovin' and then we sleep.” ”

  “Every day? And you just—let him make all those decisions for you?” I asked.

  “Who the hell said he made all those decisions? Girl, we came up with that schedule together. That’s what you do in a relationship. That man wanted you to come to his home so he could cook you some dinner and make sure you were okay. That’s all.”

  “He wanted to keep me there on Monday. He didn’t want me coming into work,” I said.

  “Until a doctor cleared you, that's all. Because he was worried about you, hon. Not because he wanted to keep you captive.”

  I shook my head and got back to work, but she had a point. A relationship was give and take, and while I thought he was doing all the taking, that wasn’t really what was happening. It would take conversations to figure this stuff out, and we couldn’t have those conversations if I was avoiding him.

  So, during lunch, I talked with Stacia about another issue I had.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” she said.

  “The father of my child—”

  “We gonna act like I don’t know who that is?” she asked.

  “Can we?”

  “Girl, if we can’t even mention the man’s name, then let’s address that. You’re scared, hun.”

  “I’m not scared. Just wary of things getting out to the media.”

  “Sweetie, if I wanted to run to the media, I’da done it this weekend. You can’t say his name, then we’re gonna address that first,” she said.

  “Fine. Drake. He’s a bit—forceful.”

  “Uh huh. Forceful how?” she asked.

  “Just sort of—kisses me out of the blue. Picks me up and tosses me onto his bed. Tells me what to do and expects me to listen. He just thinks I should—follow his lead.”

  “He's dominant, a bit of an alpha male. What’s your point?”

  “That’s not good, right?”

  “Depends. How do you feel about it?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Girl, are you givin’ into him because you like it, or givin’ into him because you think he’ll hurt you if ya don’t? Because if you like it, then what’s the problem? And if it’s the latter, we don’t need to be talkin’, you need to be leaving his ass.”

  I thought about her question for a minute. Did I like it when Drake manhandled me?

  “I guess I like it,” I said.

  “You don’t even know what you like?”

  “Okay, okay. Yes. I like it. But I just—”

  I sighed, as I put my head in my hands, trying to calm my raging mind.

  “Girl, you got some stuff to work through. You’re scared, plain and simple. Scared of intimacy. Scared of bein’ with him. Scared of takin’ a chance. And no one’s blaming you for that. But you gotta own up to it. You gotta admit that to him. Because I bet if you do, you’ll find he’s scared, too. Just like you are.”

  “Drake never gets scared,” I said.

  “Was he scared when you were in that hospital bed? Because it sure as hell sounded like it from the way Mr. Hart was talkin’.”

  It was like that every day for two solid weeks. Every day Drake was gone, I opened up more and more about my hesitations and reservations about being with him. And every day, she had more advice for me. She treated me like a friend but talked to me like a mother. She gave me advice that was hard to hear, but also included things I needed to think about. I treasured those lunch hours with her. It helped me to sift through my emotions and see the ways I was going wrong, even though Drake was going wrong as well.

  Clearing my head with Stacia allowed me to focus more on my work. And because of that better focus, Mr. Hart pulled me into his office. He told me that he was so impressed with the way I treated patients after their appointments that he was going to assign me my first client to work with. I would have a regularly established time with them during the week. Mr. Hart would allow me to use his office to conduct the weekly meetings. I would be allowed to offer plans of action so long as he approved them beforehand.

  And if all went well with my first client, then he would give me another one.

  I was ecstatic, and so immersed in my work that the two weeks without Drake flew right on by. I wrapped up things with the P.A. company and received my last paycheck from them just as I was preparing to work with my first client. Thankfully, the nausea I’d been experiencing was finally lifting.

  The night of the concert came around.

  It had been a long day at work and all I wanted to do was rest. I wanted to kick my heels off, put my feet up, and watch mindless television while eating takeout Chinese off my stomach. But Stacia’s words kept echoing off the chambers of my mind. I could hear her calling me scared, telling me I was running instead of making things work, that I had issues I needed to sift through with him and that I would always be connected to him, so I might as well make the best of it. I tried to block out her words as I turned on the television, but the louder I turned it up, the louder her voice screamed in the back of my mind.

  I had to face things head on. If this was going to work with Drake and I, then I needed to show him that I was willing to work on things with myself.

  He was trying, and now it was my turn to give him the same courtesy.

  CHAPTER 33

  Drake

  Two Weeks Later

  Two weeks on the damn road with no one to keep me company but Hank. No Landon. No Stone. And certainly, no Delia. I called her every night to see how she was doing, but mostly she steered the conversation away from herself and onto me. It was frustrating as hell and it made me wanna scream, but I got where she was coming from. Hank and I had engaged in a few heated discussions while on the road. Conversations that spring boarded from the dose of truth he threw at me in my driveway a couple weeks ago. I didn’t want to admit that I was treating Delia that way. I was worried about her and I wanted to do what was best for her.

  I didn’t want to admit that giving her space was probably what she needed right now. She was pregnant and vulnerable, but she was also strong and smart and capable. I was just so damn scared of losing her and that baby, it consumed my every waking thought.

  So, I gave her space as best as I could. I missed her, which was new for me. Sure, I missed Elsie while on the road, but no one else had mattered to me since I started touring.

  I was really looking forward to being home in Nashville. It was my last performance and the tour had gone well with lots of good press, which made Hank very happy. But mostly, lots of happy fans despite the fact that I didn’t have my band. There were no giant speakers to hop up on and no pointing out to women in the crowd. I didn’t have my signature six-pack on stage and I wasn’t guzzling down alcohol until I couldn’t remember anything.

  I was performing clear-headed, acoustic concerts. And I was having the time of my life, musically speaking.

  We rolled into Nashville and I drew in a deep breath of that clear country air. I had no idea if Delia was going to actually show up tonight. I hoped she did. I prayed she did. But with the conversations I’d had with Hank over the past two weeks, it wouldn’t have shocked me if she didn’t.

&n
bsp; So when I rounded the corner to gain access to the back area of the stage and saw Delia standing with Hank, my heart leapt with joy. A grin spread across my cheeks as her eyes connected with mine. I walked over to Hank and put my hand on his chest, pushing him out of the small room before I slammed the door in his face. I turned toward Delia, raking my eyes up and down her form as she smiled back at me.

  That innocent little smile that lit up her eyes.

  I strode over to her, taking her in my arms as our lips crashed together. My hands were all over her. Cupping her luscious breasts. Cradling the small pooch of her stomach. Swallowing her moans as my tongue raked across the roof of her mouth. I settled her onto the couch backstage, our presence cut off from everyone as our lips melded together. Our teeth clattered as her legs spread for me, her body no longer fighting what it so desperately wanted.

  Our foreheads connected as we came up for air, panting and heaving as our eyes fluttered open.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Delia said.

  “Wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  I cupped her face and ran my thumb across her cheek. Her skin was soft andit sent electric jolts down my arm. She had awakened me. She made being sober worth it. Remembering every changing inch of her and committing her sounds to memory wasn’t possible when I was drunk. But now it was, and I was thankful for it.

  “I missed you,” Delia said.

  “I missed you, too,” I said.

  “I just needed some time to think on things.”

  “Like how much you can’t resist me?” I asked.

  She swatted my ass playfully as I chuckled into her cheek. I allowed my lips to trace the curve of her neck, committing her changing scent to memory. eyes I slid my hand over her small baby bump underneath the dress she’d worn to the performance and I smiled into her shoulder.

  “You can swat at it all you want later,” I said, with a grin. “Right now, I gotta show to do.”

  I stood up and I held my hand out to her. She took it without a second thought, allowing me to help her off the couch. Delia fixed her dress as I smoothed my hands over my shirt, then I picked up my bucket hat she’d knocked off my head. I grabbed my guitar from the corner and threaded my arm through the strap, slinging it over my shoulder as Delia’s eyes danced along my body.