Southern Bride

by Knight, Ciara

  I might have tsked at his words, but they both kept their alpha gazes on each other.

  Dylan put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels. “I’m glad to see you. It saved me a trip.”

  “Out of town, I hope,” Sheriff Milton said in an I’ll-throw-you-against-the-car-and-cuff-you tone.

  “No sir. I was planning on coming by the station to thank you. I give you all the credit for saving my life.” Dylan touched my shoulder. “Saving both our lives from self-destructive behavior.”

  Sheriff tapped his finger against his gun. Not in a threatening way—more as a habit from years of service. “Glad to hear it. Sounds like you have a life outside of Magnolia Corners. Best you get back to it soon.”

  “Maybe you should stop running people out of town,” I said before I had a chance to think about it. “Dylan here might thank you, but you had no right to threaten to arrest him when he did nothing wrong.”

  “He had marijuana in his vehicle,” he said with his deep, authoritative voice.

  “You and I both know that was his drug-addicted father who probably was planning on selling it for his next fix. Dylan isn’t like that.” I looked up in time to see a proud grin on Dylan’s face. I couldn’t help but defend him. Apparently, old habits died harder than Sheriff Milton’s stare.

  He took a deep breath, and his shoulders softened along with his eyes a smidgen. “Maybe so, but I wasn’t going to deal with another bad boy corrupting a good girl.”

  “He corrupted me?” I shrieked. “After my mother ran off, he kept me from going small-town certifiably crazy. I’m the one who tee-peed the station. Dylan only arrived in enough time to whisk me from the crime scene. I’m the one who spray painted the side of the school, not Dylan. I was the one who did all of it. He took the fall for me and tried to keep me out of trouble. If it wasn’t for him, I would be the one run out of town.”

  The sheriff tipped his hat up with one finger and looked down at me. “You had it tough as a kid, but it was only a matter of time before you fell into his messed-up world. He had to leave.”

  “Wasn’t your call to make,” I said flatly.

  Dylan pulled me into his side as if we were a united front. I couldn’t lie… I liked it. It felt like old times, us against the world. “We both made poor choices, but we’ve learned, and we are doing well now.”

  “We?” Sheriff smacked his lips and hooked his thumbs on his belt. “Sounds like you’re stirring up trouble again.” He eyed Mrs. Welsh’s house and then the lawnmower. “I’d hate to take you in on a noise-ordinance violation.”

  I jumped forward. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Dylan slid an arm in front of me and nudged me behind him. “Sorry for the disruption. It won’t happen again.”

  “You know she’s a crazy old lady. Why are you picking on Dylan? Why do you have it in for him even today?” I shouted over Dylan’s shoulder.

  The corner of Sheriff Milton’s lip curled. He stood eye to eye with Dylan. “I rest my case. You are poison in this town, just like your father.”

  Dylan lifted his chin. “I won’t be here long.”

  “Make it even less.” Sheriff Rude-neck headed toward his car but stopped and turned back to us. “Hear you have a stellar military record. I’d hate for anything to cause you any trouble in your other life.”

  “Is that a threat?” I ducked under Dylan’s arm to take on Sheriff Milton and his bully attitude.

  “You may not understand this right now, Avery, but I’m looking out for you. This time, I won’t allow one of my town girls to be ruined.”

  “What are you talking about?” I crossed my arms over my chest a few steps from him.

  Sheriff Milton didn’t answer. He only walked back to his car. He stood there for a moment and exchanged a stare down with Dylan before he returned to his car and backed out of the driveway.

  “What was that about? You two just looked like you had a full conversation with no words.”

  “Nothing.” Dylan shook his head as if to clear it off a fog. “Well, that didn’t go the way I had expected.”

  I didn’t buy his claim that there wasn’t more between the two of them that was left unspoken, but it didn’t matter. That was their business. “I can’t believe that man. He ruined our lives, and now he’s trying to do it all over again. It’s not like you’re an outsider. You’re a town resident, too. Why isn’t he looking out for you? Well, I can tell you what… He isn’t going to run you out of town again.”

  “He’s not?” Dylan asked, his voice hitching a little above baritone.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, a protective shield to Dylan’s approach. “No. He doesn’t have the right.”

  “Does that mean you want me to stay?” Dylan smiled down at me in the biggest grin I’d seen since he’d arrived.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t want him to stay, but I didn’t want him to go either. “It’s about what’s right.”

  He looked at his shiny boots covered in grass.

  I couldn’t stand to see him sad. “I forgive you leaving that night.”

  His eyes snapped to mine, and he smiled wide. “You do?” He stepped toward me, arms open.

  “Not so fast.” I held a hand to his rock-hard chest. “You still could have called me before you started basic or written to me. Sheriff Milton ran you out of town, but you chose not to talk to me.” I studied the grass beginning to dry on the top of my feet.

  “You don’t understand, Avery. I couldn’t,” he said, his voice low, wounded.

  “What do you mean, you couldn’t? I know barely anything about the military, but even in jail you’re given a call.”

  He paced back and forth, and I knew there was something more to this. Something he didn’t want to tell me.

  I could challenge him and tell him if he really wanted to be together he needed to share everything, but that move could backfire. “I read your letters.”

  Dylan stood stock still, as if standing in front of a loaded gun.

  “I felt for you, but still. It doesn’t explain why you never called. Your words were enough to touch my heart but not enough to change my mind. Not enough for me not to feel betrayed.”

  The sun rose higher in the sky, casting Dylan’s shadow on the ground. That’s what he was to me, a shadow of something we once had. He looked wounded, scared. I wanted to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort, or worse throw my arms around him and forget everything, but I didn’t. I stood firm.

  “There is something Sheriff Milton didn’t tell you about that night,” Dylan said, his voice heavy with emotion. “I went home upset about our argument that night.” His voice cracked.

  I waited for a reason that couldn’t possibly exist to explain why he abandoned me that night. “I know. We were both upset, but that only means you ran when things got tough. Just like my parents.” My voice trembled, my hands trembled, my world trembled.

  “No. I ran toward something. That night I went home so upset that I drank. I drank and drank. Then I left my house to try one more time to sweep you away. I was going to take you away driving drunk, Avery!” He faced me, grabbed ahold of my shoulders, and I knew he was willing me to truly hear his words. “I was running from my father, but I couldn’t run fast enough. I’d already become him. Sheriff Milton didn’t pull me over. He found me in a ditch. The side of my father’s car, which I had stolen, was crushed by a tree. The seat you would have been riding in that night buried below twisted, crunched metal.” He took two stuttered breaths. His hands shook, but he didn’t let me go.

  Fear, anxiety, hopelessness… I felt it all from Dylan. I’d always shared his pain and his happiness. That connection hadn’t severed completely. “I knew you had been drinking, but—”

  “Sheriff Milton saved your life and mine that night. I would’ve written sooner after I left, but I had seen my father try so many times to stop drinking, only to fall back into his old ways. It took all I had to quit. Something I had to do
on my own. Then I knew I needed a year to make sure it stuck. There was no way I’d ever put you at risk like that again. I thank God every day that Sheriff Milton gave me a choice. Leave town and figure life out, go to jail, or murder the one woman I loved.”

  Chapter Nine

  The pain in Dylan’s voice sucker-punched me. He believed he would’ve killed me that night. There was no more denying the fact that Dylan had done what he thought was best, even if I didn’t agree with his decision.

  I slid my fingers between his. “Come inside.”

  He looked up at the sky and took a heaving breath.

  I wanted to soothe his pain the way we’d always soothed each other. “You better hurry up, though. We only have until nine to chat.”

  He looked at the front door and then at me. “Why until nine? I thought you had the day off?”

  “You have to finish my lawn for me. It’s the price of a conversation.” I winked.

  He puffed out his chest. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

  I felt the peering eyes of the neighbors on my back as Dylan followed me inside, especially Mrs. Welsh. Hopefully the sheriff wouldn’t return to arrest Dylan for breaking and entering or some other lame charge.

  I closed the front door behind us and wiped my feet on the mat. Dylan removed his army boots and set them neatly by the door. “Wow. You have changed. What happened to you tossing things and worrying about finding them later? I remember your room covered in clothes and books so much you couldn’t see what carpet you had.”

  He chuckled. “At least you know I’m housebroken now. I have all my shots, too.”

  The sound of Zoey’s soft steps creaking in her room warned she’d be eavesdropping. “Let’s sit in the kitchen.” I glanced down the hall. “Hopefully no one will be able to listen in on us there.”

  Dylan stood to the side and held out his hand for me to enter first. He was always well mannered when it came to how he treated me. That hadn’t changed, and there wasn’t any room for improvement either.

  I started some much-needed coffee. “So, you’re here for three weeks?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “That’s the plan.”

  With the filter in place, I scooped several heaping spoonfuls of grounds into the white paper cone, pushed the filter back in, and hit the Start button. The welcome aroma of strong coffee reached my nose, making me feel like I could handle much more now. “You said you were going to see your father. I heard he was in the old folk’s home on Taylor Street.”

  “Yes.” Dylan removed two mugs from the cabinet and set them next to me. He remembered where they’d been kept. Apparently not much had changed in the last few years, except us.

  “How’s he doing?” I watched the coffee drip into the pot.

  “Liver disease, dementia, and stomach cancer. All expected based on his lifestyle of drinking, drugs, and smoking.” Dylan turned away, but I caught the emotion in his voice.

  “I would’ve been there for you, helped you get clean.” I studied my unpolished nails.

  “You couldn’t help me, not any more than I could help my father. Addiction is a disease only the victim can cure.”

  “I guess the military worked for you.”

  His strong hands turned me to face him, their warmth radiating through my shirt into my shoulders. “No, my love for you is what got me clean. The military only taught me discipline.”

  We stood quiet for a moment, his gaze penetrating my defenses. I couldn’t argue with his words. Deep inside I knew they were true. I’d tried to help him, but he became better and better about hiding the alcohol from me. He’d done it, though. Despite his circumstances and negative influences, he’d beaten the disease. But I saw the pain still in his eyes when he spoke of his father.

  “You know, it’s okay to want to see your father, to care about him.”

  “I thought you said I’d be okay if I never saw him again. That separating from my father was the only way I’d ever be happy.”

  I bowed my head, flashes of our argument that night he left pummeling my brain. “I believed that, but he’s your father and you’re obviously stronger now. I also said I never wanted to see my parents again, but sometimes I think about them. If one of them was dying, I think I would go and see them.”

  Dylan held out a cup, obviously in need of coffee as much as I was. I removed the pot and poured some dark, steaming liquid into his cup. “You would?”

  “I think so. It’s hard to say since it isn’t a situation I’ve faced, but as awful as they both were, they’re still my kin.”

  “You sound like a true southern girl.” He took a sip of his brew, looking over the rim at me. His dark brows perfectly framed his interesting eyes. I’d always gotten lost in them.

  I tore my gaze from his and poured some coffee into a cup, settled into a chair, and sipped my morning elixir. The stiff jolt of bitterness was just what I needed, but I remembered Dylan liked his with cream. “I’m not sure what’s left in the fridge, but I should at least have a little milk if it hasn’t expired.”

  “No need. I got used to drinking mine black in the military.” He smiled. “Although, I wouldn’t mind one of your specialty coffees. I thought about it often, but not many grown military men have hazelnut lying around.”

  “I can’t believe you remember my coffee. I’ve actually improved it.” I hopped up and snagged my secret ingredients, mixed them together, snagged the milk and put it in the microwave, and then dumped it all together and frothed it. “Here you go.” I poured the milky mixture into his coffee and handed him a spoon.

  “Thanks.” Dylan sat next to me. After a few sips he lowered his cup to the table. “How have you been, really?”

  “Fine. I was busy with Sadie’s wedding last year and helping with the store while she expands two other stores in Eagles Landing and up on the north side of Atlanta.”

  “And school. I heard you completed the first two years.”

  I didn’t miss the sound of pride in his voice. It felt good. “Who’d you hear that from? Gossip line or sister line?”

  He shifted in his chair. A tell if I ever saw one.

  “You used to squirm whenever you didn’t want to share something. Apparently, some habits don’t die, no matter how much the military tried to beat those bad habits out of you.”

  “You always could read me. Everyone else said they didn’t understand me, but not you. You got me from the moment we met.”

  “Nice deflection, but spill it,” I said.

  “You’ve got me in some dangerous territory.” He moved but stopped mid-shift. “My only information link to you might be severed if I share my source.”

  “Sadie or Zoey?”

  He rubbed the top of his head, causing a wave of short hair that puffed back into place without issue.

  “Aren’t you here to tell me the truth?” I emphasized the word truth.

  “Yes, but please don’t be mad at her. She only wanted to soften the blow.”

  “Zoey, Miss Sugar and Sweet. She’ll do anything to diffuse a situation.”

  “I-I—”

  “Didn’t tell me. You’re safe.” I enjoyed a few more sips of coffee. It was nice sitting and talking to Dylan, despite the inner voice in my head screaming that I couldn’t open to him. Not when he was only leaving again. At least this time I knew.

  Dylan’s shoulders lowered from his ears, and he sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. His dark-socked feet touched the leg of my chair. “So what else have you been up to? I’ll be honest… I thought I was going to have to track you down somewhere backpacking in Europe or ziplining in Costa Rica. I knew you’d always keep your permanent residence here in Magnolia Corners with your sisters, but I thought you’d still see the world.”

  “Nope, stayed right here. Not even a vacation past Atlanta. I guess childhood dreams dwindle when you have bills to pay.”

  “Not now, though. From what I understand, Ashton Dumont keeps offering to pay all the
Dixon sisters’ bills. Even offered to pay for your college, right?”

  College. The word flashed in my head until I caught hold of the thought. “Yeah, but…oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. How could I forget?” I bolted from the kitchen table and spotted my laptop on the coffee table. “Why didn’t Zoey wake me up before midnight?” I rushed over and opened my laptop, typed in my username and password to the school registration system.

  “What’s wrong? What can I do to help?” Dylan settled by my side.

  “I had to register for my classes by midnight last night, but my sister took my laptop as blackmail to make me read your letters.”

  The dancing dot continued swirling around, mocking me. I waited, holding my breath for what felt like a full minute. Finally, the dot stopped, and in bright-red letters it stated, Fall registration is closed.

  Chapter Ten

  I slouched into the couch and held my head in my hands. “There goes my plan.”

  Dylan lowered to my side. “What plan?”

  I dropped my hands and eyed the red words on the screen once more. Funny… I was frustrated but not that upset. Not like I’d expect to be. “I’d planned on registering for my classes toward my bachelor’s in social work.”

  “Right. Zoey told me you were doing that.”

  The tone in his voice spoke volumes to me.

  I looked at him. “Not you, too.”

  His eyes shot wide and his shoulders lifted. “What?”

  “Don’t play innocent. That look doesn’t work with your clean-cut hairdo,” I teased. “You think I’m making a mistake, too.”

  “Mistake? No. I do think you're doing this because you needed a plan. Zoey knows what she wants. Sadie knows what she wants. You used to know what you wanted, but now. Now you look lost.”

  “I had a plan. A plan that I constructed from the rubble of my life when everyone left me.”

  Dylan took my hand. I tried to yank it away, but he held tight. “Yes, because you didn’t have a choice. You had to survive. Now you do have a choice.”

  “What choice?” I eyed him with my best you-don’t-understand look.