“Hey,” he says, coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. He finds my eyes in the mirror. “Whatever happens, I’m not leavin’ Whitley Jean.” I give him a watery smile in the mirror just as his phone alarms, telling us the three minutes is up. He releases me and steps back, giving me a little space.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I open the stall door and grab all three tests.
Positive. Pregnant. Two lines. I drag my eyes from the tests to Dean’s face, his eyes meeting mine, shining with unshed tears. I choke out a sob.
“Pregnant,” I whisper, and he closes the distance, pulling me into his arms as I cry. “I’m only seventeen, Dean. How can I raise a baby and finish school?” I had all these plans. Finish high school. Take a year off and see the world with Dean. Instead, I’m going to be stuck raising a baby and working at the local Piggly Wiggly. Another sob slips out of me.
“We’re gonna figure it out, Whit. Swear to you, we’ll figure it out.”
The more time that went on, the more excited I got. Havin’ this tiny human inside of me, growing. It was incredible. I told my parents, who were initially really upset, but they loved me and knew Dean and I were in love, so they eventually got on board with the idea. Dean’s mom, Darla, was over the moon. She’s a hippie who didn’t give a shit what Dean did, so long as he didn’t smoke her weed.
It was exciting and terrifying, all in one. To know I’d be responsible for this little person who would be completely dependent on me. I loved Dean somethin’ fierce before we got pregnant but seeing how excited he was to have a daughter made me love him even more. He cried when we found out it was a girl. He was beside me every step of the way, putting her crib together, buying two car seats so we wouldn’t have to move them back and forth between cars, working three jobs while I finished school so he could support the three of us.
And then, in an instant, the rug was ripped out from under us.
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Amari had said, “but she’s stillborn.”
I laid on that operating table as they cut me open, took out my dead baby. Had her daddy cut the cord while we both cried. They cleaned her up, wrapped her in a little pink blanket, and placed her on my chest.
We spent hours in our hospital room with her before the nurse came and took her away. We picked out a casket and planned a funeral. A week later, Dean was gone, and I was alone. No baby and no boyfriend. It was a really dark time in my life and if it wasn’t for momma and daddy, I would have happily died right along with Everly.
And now, Dean and I are in my apartment. He’s standing in front of the picture hanging on my wall of the three of us. Me, in my hospital bed. Everly, swaddled in my arms. Dean beside me, one hand on Everly the other around my shoulders, his forehead pressed against the side of my head. The only photo I have of the three of us.
We stopped at my apartment after leaving the bar so that I could pack up some things before we went back to his place. He doesn’t want me staying here until we figure out who trashed my car.
“She was perfect,” Dean says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I come back every year on her birthday,” he goes on, shocking the shit out of me. I go every year, too. I go a lot, honestly. But every year on her birthday, I spread a blanket out beside her headstone, and I lay there for hours watching the clouds go by, talking to her.
He must see the surprise written all over my face because he continues talking. “You’ve never seen me because I always wait. Usually in my truck, watching you laying there, talking to her. Imagining what it would be like if she were here. Sometimes, I’d go to moms or Fords and come back to the cemetery late at night when you were gone. But mostly I’d just sit in my truck and wait for you to be done.” He shrugs his shoulders, meeting my eyes finally.
“I had no clue,” a tear slips down my cheek. “I just... I thought...”
He gives me a sad smile. “I know. You thought I just left, never thought about her. I’m sure most of the town did, too.” He shrugs his shoulders, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I hurt, same as you.” I shake my head, tears still streaming down my cheeks. This man. I was so busy mourning my own loss that I never really considered how badly he was hurting too. I spent all these years so angry at him.
Closing the distance between us, I bring my hands up to both sides of his face.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry, Dean. I was so broken when Everly died, those days were so dark. I just never... I never considered how dark it was for you, too.” A tear slips from his eye and I swipe it away with my thumb. He settles his hands on my waist and pulls me flush to him, sealing his lips with mine. I give him my weight, pouring my soul into that kiss.
He pulls away all too soon.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” He asks, moving away to grab my bags. I pause for a minute, chewing my thumbnail. My eyes bounce between my bag on Dean’s shoulder and the photo on the wall.
“Could you?” I tilt my head towards the photo, silently asking him to grab it. His brow furrows as he looks between me and the picture. I watch his throat work slowly, emotion causing him to hesitate.
“Are you sure?” He asks me, and I say yes without hesitation. He hands me my bag and grabs the photo off the wall, tagging me by the hand and we leave my apartment to go home.
Dean
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down on the desk, anger vibrating through me. Another dead end, according to Jensen. It’s been three weeks since Whit’s car was trashed and we’re no closer to knowing who did it. The cops have chased every lead, ran every print they could lift. Nothing. Whoever it is, they don’t have a record and their prints aren’t in the system. I scrub my hands over my face.
The only good thing that came out of this is that every night I’ve got Whitley in my bed. I still won’t let her out of my sight, so if she’s at the bar, so am I. If she’s out with the girls, Ford and I are right there with them. I’m eating, sleeping, and breathing everything Whitley these days, and I can’t fucking say I hate it.
I came back to Monroeville with one thing in mind - - making that girl fall in love with me. I slide the bottom drawer of my desk open, snagging the ring box out of the bottom. I flip it open. Nestled inside the box is a yellow gold band and sitting on that band is the diamond Whit’s dad gave her mom many years ago. I left Whitley here at work during lunch last week and ran to her momma’s house. Apologized for leaving all those years ago and asked for permission to marry her daughter.
She told me the only way she’d be okay with that is if I use the ring her husband proposed to her with. Insisted I take it. After a lot of objecting, I finally gave in. Took the ring to a jeweler, had him remove the diamond from the band and set it on a new one. And then I had him engrave the old band with her daddy’s name, and I plan on giving that back to her ma. A throat clearing in the doorway has me flipping the box shut. My eyes snap up.
“Fuck, Kolby. You scared the shit outta me,” I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn’t Whitley standing there. He glances at the box then back up to me, hitting me with a grin.
“Sorry, boss. But I’m all done in the kitchen. You wanna do your walk through so I can clock out?
“Sure thing. I’ll be right there.” He knocks twice on the door frame, one more glance at the box, and leaves my office. I’m not far behind him, walking the kitchen, making sure everything is cleaned up and turned off. Once he heads out, I hit the bar. Giggles assault me as I stumble upon Whitley and a drunk Avery. She showed up a few hours ago, tears in her eyes, insisting she didn’t want to talk about and all but begging Whitley to just leave it be.
Without a word, Whit slid a glass and a bottle of whiskey in front of her and went about her job.
“Ladies,” I interrupt, dropping a kiss on Whit’s cheek, “you two ready for me to escort you home?” Avery hiccups, fumbling for her phone and squinting one eye.
“You can esc… esca….. ::hiccup:: escort me to Jaxson’s!” Avery shouts, damn nea
r falling out of her chair. Whitley heaves a sigh.
“You sure that’s a good idea, babe?” Whit asks what I’m thinking. I grab the money bag and turn the bar lights off as she helps Avery off her stool, wrapping her arm around her back to keep her on two feet. Once we’ve got her in the car, Avery insists she’s going to Jax’s. I have Whit shoot him a text to let him know we’re on our way.
We pull into his driveway and he’s already standing on the porch, propped up against the pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. He strides over to my truck and opens the back door. Avery’s out like a light.
“Thanks for getting her here safe,” Jax says, grabbing her purse and lifting her into his arms.
“No problem, man. She insisted she had to come here,” he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he shuts the door quietly while cradling her body in his arms. Whitley sighs from the passenger seat. I throw my arm over the back of her seat as I back out of the driveway.
“What’s that sigh for, darlin’?”
“I just wish Avery would quit bein’ so damn stubborn and let Jax love her.” She proclaims, causing me to snort. She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you laughin’ about, Dean Allen?” I grin and shake my head.
“Middle name, babe? Seriously? Ouch.” She rolls those beautiful gray eyes as I steer us towards the house. “I laughed because you’ve got absolutely no room to talk about bein’ stubborn.”
“Whatever.” She snaps, crossing her arms, and I crack up even harder.
“Honey, the second week I was back, when you came home to me mowing your yard, you literally turned the hose on full blast and sprayed me until I was finished.” I shake my head, recalling how pissed she was that I was at her house and mowing her yard, shirtless.
She shrugs her shoulders. “You had your shirt off and you were sweaty. I just assumed you needed to cool down,” I glance at her face and she’s got a shit-eating grin plastered to it. I drop my hand on her knee, pulling my focus back to the road.
“It was pretty funny,” I agree, steering us down the driveway and up to the house.
Once we’re inside and Ranger has been out to do his business, I snag both of us a beer and we head into the living room, where Whit notices the picture that I hung above the fireplace mantle yesterday. The one of all three of us in the hospital after Everly was born.
That day was amazing and awful, all at the same time. To know that I was going to be a dad only to have my baby taken away from me was heartbreaking. I didn’t want to believe what the doctor had said, didn't want to believe that our baby was going to be stillborn. I cried when they had me cut the umbilical cord and I cried when they put her in my arms, not breathing. But I wasn’t truly heartbroken until I watched the love of my life hold our lifeless baby in her arms, knowing there was nothing anyone could have done to save her.
“Oh Dean. It’s perfect,” she breathes out, pushing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to my scruff covered cheek. Once I have the fireplace lit, she tugs me down onto the couch beside her, wrapping a blanket around us. Ranger curls up in his dog bed with a huff, mad that he isn’t up here snuggling, and I hold my girl, thankful for this second chance.
Whitley
The bar is packed full tonight, standing room only. The day before Thanksgiving is the biggest drinking day of the year. We’ve got extra staff on to keep up with the crowd - three bartenders, two servers, and a full kitchen staff. Dean is back-up for the bartenders, cleaning beer glasses and stocking, and I’ve been on the floor helping the servers run food and filling in where needed.
I deliver food to one table and grab a second round of beers for another.
“Holy shit,” Lex hollers, coming up beside me. “This place is packed.”
“Every year, townies and out of towners, come in to drink away the anxiety of spending the holidays with their family.” Lex snorts at my comment as Ford saddles up behind her, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her against him.
“Can we get a table for four?” She asks, “Nina and Steve are joining us.” I get the lovebirds settled in at a high top and make my way to the bar where Dean is putting glasses in the cooler.
“Do we need anything back here?” I ask him, referring to the liquor and beer.
“Maybe another case of Jack,” he hollers over the noises of the bar and I head towards the back to our stock room. The hallway that leads to the back door also has the restrooms situated on one side, plus our office and the inventory room on the other. I’ve got the key ring out of my pocket and I’m searching through them when I hear a slam come from out back and raised voices. I furrow my brow, detouring to the back door and swinging it open. Looking to the left I see Kolby has some woman I’ve never seen before pressed against the brick wall of the building, his hand wrapped around her upper arm.
“Seriously Kolby, you’re hurting me. Let go,” she says, trying to break free but he doesn’t loosen his grip.
“Don’t do this, Corrine.” He says, his voice menacing as his grip tightens and she winces in pain.
“Hey!” I holler and he whips his head towards me, dropping her arm and taking a step back.
“Go back inside, Whitley,” he says before turning his attention back towards the young girl who looks terrified.
“Yeah, not a fuckin’ chance when you’re out here with some young girl against a wall, ignorin’ her askin’ you to stop.” I cross my arms over my chest and prop the door open with my foot.
“Mind your business,” he says, roughing his hands through his hair before stuffing them in his pockets. “Go back inside.”
“Corrine,” I call out, “that’s your name, right?” She nods her head, fear still etched on her face. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She glances between Kolby and me, her eyes volleying back and forth before taking a step towards me. His hand shoots out and he grabs her forearm.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he says, and she flinches again, wiggling her arm out of his hold before finishing walking the rest of the way towards me. I lean down and whisper in her ear.
“Go inside to the bar and ask for Dean. Tell him Whitley said to take you home.” She nods her head before scurrying inside. Looking at Kolby, his eyes are hard and pointed right at me.
“Never took you for a guy that gets too rough with women.” I say and he shakes his head.
“Again, it’s none of your fuckin’ business.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. This is my bar, which means whatever you do, inside and out of, is my business. Now, I suggest you get your ass back to the kitchen before I have you walked off the property.” He stuffs his hands back in his pockets and moves towards the open door and storms past me without saying a word. I release a shaky breath, my nerves and emotions on high alert. A hand drops on my shoulder and I scream, whipping around.
“Jesus, Dean. You scared the shit out of me,” I press a hand to my racing heart, and he furrows his brow.
“Everything okay back here? Some girl named Corrine said you needed me to run her home?”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. Kolby was out here, and they were arguin’. It looked intense, I figured she could use an escort.” He pulls me inside, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Do I need to talk to him?”
“No, that’s not necessary. We had words and he seemed to leave it at that.” He laces his fingers with mine and tugs me down the hallway, depositing me behind the bar before driving Corrine home. The rest of the evening passes, mostly uneventful. A few rowdy men but nothing Dean couldn’t handle on his own. Once we’re in the truck and on our way home, he presses me for more information about what happened out back.
“I came out, and he had her backed up against the wall, his hand grippin’ her arm. She looked scared,” I shrug my shoulders, lifting my hair up and securing it in a messy top knot.
“Who was she to him?”
I shrug my shoulders again, “girlf
riend maybe? Not sure, I didn’t ask. Just didn’t like the way he was handlin’ the situation, so I stepped in.”
“Alright. I’ll keep an eye on him at work,” he says, and I give him a small smile, before sliding across the bench seat and settling myself under his outstretched arm, as he finishes the drive home.
Whitley
I huff out a breath, my hair flopping with the movement as I shut the oven door. Setting the timer, I brush my hands off on my apron and take in the mess that’s all over Dean’s kitchen. I’ve been cooking up a storm for our Friendsgiving today.
It’s been a few weeks since my car was trashed. We still don’t know who did it, the cops weren’t able to find much evidence. Insurance decided it was beyond repair and totaled the whole thing out for me. I was due a new vehicle anyways, I’d been driving that car since graduation when mama and daddy gave it to me.
Dean insisted I need something larger and more reliable, since I was “driving a tuna can.” His words, not mine. So, we went to look at cars last week, but ended up leaving with nothing. Nothing really caught my eye, other than a 2018 Chevy Tahoe that I loved but would never be able to afford. So instead, I’ve just been using Dean’s truck and he drives the Mustang he brought home from Jim’s. Maybe one day I’ll find something I like and can afford, but until then this is working just fine.
I’m dicing the onions for the stuffing when the back door slides open and Dean and Ranger come in from outside. He’s been outside setting up the chairs and tables. We’ve invited everyone over for dinner - Mama and Wesley, Ford and Lex’s family, Jaxson, Avery and her kids, employees of the bar, and Dean’s mom are all coming over for dinner. We have been in the kitchen cooking for most of the morning. I thought Dean would let me cook and go about doing other things, but he’s been right beside me in the kitchen almost all day, helping me. We’ve got the turkey on the smoker, green bean casserole in the crock pot, corn pudding in the oven. Just a little bit longer before it’s finished, and everyone is showing up.
Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama Page 9
