My jaw clenched.
I wanted to glare at Lee. Ask how stupid he could be.
But I stood there. Waiting.
“Or,” he continued, “y’all can just tell me who it belongs to.”
I didn’t move.
I already knew how this was about to go. But unless I wanted to look like I was covering for someone, I couldn’t just offer myself up. So, I did the only other thing I could.
Made sure I was searched before Lee, so the deputy never saw his eyes.
“The hell am I gonna do with you?”
My stare drifted to the other side of the kitchen, head shaking as I prepared for another round.
We’d already gone through this in the car. Twice.
“You just can’t stop, can you?” Dad asked, bitterness dripping from the words. “Can’t help but embarrass the family. Your poor mother.”
Yeah. Poor Mom.
She had no idea what kind of asshole she’d married.
No one knew what kind of guy my dad truly was.
The town adored him. My brothers still idolized him. Then again, he’d never stopped being a hero to them.
They’d never watched the illusion shatter in front of them, let alone dozens of times.
To everyone, he was the man who was involved in town functions and his family’s lives. There for every game and ceremony, cheering louder than the rest—proud of his kids.
He was the man who cherished his wife and was there for anyone when they needed help—didn’t matter the time or problem.
And they were right. He was those things . . . with everyone else.
“Drugs, Cayson?” he bit out. “You a junkie now too, or is this something you’re just getting started in?”
“Jesus, Dad,” I muttered.
The fact that he actually thought I was on drugs would’ve been enough to make me laugh if I wasn’t already so fucking done.
With these talks.
With him putting me down.
With the entire town expecting the worst from me . . .
The way the deputy hadn’t even looked surprised that he’d found the drugs on me. The way he’d nodded as if he’d figured they were mine all along.
The way the people who worked in the county jail started whispering when they saw me brought in, loud enough for me to hear.
“Here comes that Dixon boy again—the trouble-maker one. Wonder what he’s here for this time.”
The sad thing was that no one had looked surprised once they’d found out.
The other arrests had been for stupid shit anyone in a small town could get arrested for.
Things like driving a tractor down the road—naked. And taking the goats from the Langes’ farm and switching them out with the chickens from the Rileys’—was it actually theft if I’d planned on putting them back the next day?
But cocaine? That was a huge leap.
One I would never take. I hadn’t thought for a second anyone would believe I would.
Clearly, I’d been wrong.
When my dad had shown to bail me out, he’d played the saddened, embarrassed parent. Thanking the officers and letting his head hang low as though he couldn’t believe it.
But the look in his eyes as we’d walked to the car changed drastically and said it all.
He was embarrassed, but it went so much deeper than that. I’d humiliated him. Our family.
He was livid and disgusted with me.
I’d just nodded, accepting the silent shouts.
We hadn’t made it more than a block from the station before he’d clocked me in the jaw.
Hadn’t even slowed the car to do it.
“You’re almost twenty years old, for Christ’s sake,” he said when I didn’t offer anything else. “Grow up. Do something with your life. Look at this.” He spread his arms, showing off the kitchen of the massive plantation house Beau and his wife, Savannah, had recently bought.
“Hunter’s moving up in rank in the military. Sawyer’s about to leave with a full ride for football. And what the hell have you got to show for yourself other than disappointment after disappointment after disappointment?”
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t move from where I stood with my arms at my sides. Hands flexing and aching to form into fists.
Listening and taking the discussion that was becoming so routine, I probably could’ve just insulted myself.
I glanced out one of the kitchen windows to where a house-warming party was in full swing on the far side of the lawn. Music playing and people moving around, talking and laughing and not having a damn clue what was taking place inside.
Exactly how Dad preferred our talks.
“I asked you a question, you worthless shit.”
My eyes snapped to him, hardening as his words hit home.
“I know you’re stupid, but you can still speak.”
The muscle in my jaw twitched and feathered from the pressure I was putting on it. My body trembled from the adrenaline and hatred rushing through me.
Hatred for him.
For me.
For whatever the hell was wrong with me.
“The hell you think you’re gonna do?” he asked, stepping up to me and shoving me back, but I held my ground. “You curlin’ those hands into fists like you’re gonna take a swing at your old man.” Another shove that had me staggering back a step. “What kind of ungrateful shit does that? And after everything I’ve done for you!”
A disbelieving breath wrenched from my chest. “Every—”
My head snapped to the side as his right hook connected with my jaw, but I was ready for the one that came next.
I grabbed his left hand before it could connect and shoved my other hand into his chest, pushing him back a few feet.
“Fuck you, I’m not gonna hit you,” I yelled when he came at me again.
Even though my past begged for me to do just that.
Even though my stance screamed that I would.
“Well, shit, I almost wish you would,” he shot back. “Show that you’re a man for once in your pathetic life.”
I’d gotten it long ago.
Why Dad was always so patient with Beau. Lenient with him.
Why he’d always been the one to give him another chance . . . and then another even when Mom had reached her limit and wanted to send him off to military school.
Because Beau was the younger version of my dad.
All red-hot temper and fists ready to throw the next punch. Only difference? Dad had learned to control it at some point in his life.
Hide it.
I breathed an edgy laugh and turned away, putting a few necessary feet of space between us before facing him again. “You wanted to know what I have to show for my life, but you never gave me a chance to have anything.”
It was instant.
The way his skin turned purple.
The way his fingers curled tightly and his arm kicked back a little, ready for his next hit.
“All you ever did was remind me of how I was failing. How I was embarrassing you.”
“You were.”
“You could’ve helped me,” I snapped, reminding him of the words I’d begged so many times when I was young.
“What the hell do you think all those payoffs were?” he shouted. “I saved you. I saved this family from you.”
A jagged breath ripped from me, my head shaking as he once again pierced my soul with the claim that I was embarrassing our family. That he had to hide what was wrong with me from everyone so I wouldn’t humiliate them more.
My mouth curled into a pained smile. But there was nothing funny about this.
I was just so damn tired.
“And then the one thing I was able to grasp,” I said softly and looked to him, “you ripped away.”
“You mean that sissy shit?” he asked after a few moments, head slanted and eyes narrowed in a look that screamed I know you aren’t bringing this up again. “I’m not gonna encourage things that
would make me ashamed to even call you my son. Ashamed enough of you already.”
My entire being stilled at the crushing blow before I was able to make myself move again.
A breath.
A nod.
A forced smirk.
A hushed, mocking remark. “Wow, Dad. Thanks.”
“Tone,” he ground out, then released a heaving breath as he rocked back a step only to lean forward again, finger pointed at me and expression stern. “Straighten yourself up and get outside. Don’t ruin today for Beau and Savannah—you’ve ruined enough.”
A moment passed as he turned and took a step away.
And then another.
When he looked back at me, eyes wide with irritation and expectation, I dipped my head. “Yes, sir.”
His head was shaking when he turned again. “Killin’ me, Cayson.”
“So you’ve told me,” I called out as he stomped off.
As soon as he was out of the kitchen, I sagged.
One hand shooting out to the counter to help keep me standing, the other pressing to my chest as I desperately tried to take a breath.
To force my heart to beat regularly when it felt like it was limping. Crawling.
Body shaking so violently it felt like I might explode.
Done.
Done.
Done . . . I’m done.
I couldn’t keep going through that with him. I couldn’t deal with the hatred and the storm of toxic emotions he provoked.
The way I went on believing every single thing he called me for weeks after only to pick myself back up in time for him to crush me all over again.
I shifted my hand to the back of my neck, squeezing tight and willing the burning in my eyes to subside as his insults swirled through my mind.
Done, I mentally shouted over them. I’m done.
“Cayson.”
My head jerked up at the soft voice.
At that voice.
Emberly . . .
It took a second too long to realize she was actually there. Looking at me in a way that had my stomach dropping because I knew—I knew—she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to.
All at once, it scared the shit out of me and pissed me off and made it harder to breathe than before. Colliding into this bubbling, horrified rage that seemed to go hand in hand with Emberly Olsen.
Because she was always there when she shouldn’t be . . . when I turned around after these talks . . . when I was still reeling from them.
This girl who drove me crazy.
Who danced along the edge of nearly every thought.
Who was only ever right there because of my brother.
“How long you been there?”
Her slender face creased, her eyes telling me everything.
She hadn’t just heard something.
She’d heard everything.
And I was pretty goddamn sure I was gonna pass out as I struggled to remember what was said.
What insults were hurled.
If we’d said the words out loud.
I pushed from the counter, my tone taking on that harsh taunting I couldn’t seem to help when I was around her and worked up this way. “So, now you’ve taken to eavesdropping, Duck?”
“No.” The word rushed from her as she stepped toward me at the same time I took a step toward her. “No, it wasn’t like that. I came in for plates.”
“And got an earful instead, yeah?”
Her entire body seemed to sag. “Cayson—”
“Stop saying my name like that,” I demanded.
Begged.
I wasn’t sure.
Because she was saying my name in a way I’d wanted for so damn long, but it was only because of some bullshit she was never supposed to hear. And she was looking at me like she felt sorry for me, and the last thing I wanted from anyone—especially Emberly—was for them to feel sorry for me.
“Why was he . . . I don’t understand . . .” Her head shook wildly as she pointed in the direction my dad had left. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”
“Told them what?” I goaded softly, easily switching to the best defense I’d held for years. Taking the focus off me and putting it on someone else. “That you keep following me around like the little duck you are?”
“Stop! I know what I heard. Stop trying to make me doubt myself.”
Erasing the last of the distance between us, I lowered my head and held her stare when I pointedly said, “Because there’s nothing to tell.”
“That isn’t—”
“There is nothing to tell, Emberly.”
She went still.
Then again, I had too.
Because I’d reached for her without thinking. Grabbing and holding her as I’d pleaded with her to understand that no one could know about my dad. My hands cradling her cheek and her neck as though they had minds of their own. As though I’d been doing this for years.
And she just stood there. Watching me. Waiting to see what my next move would be.
With her this close for the first time, I was unable to do anything but take her in.
My eyes danced over her face again and again. My blood was pounding, chanting her name and begging me to lean a little closer. To taste what I’d dreamed of for years.
In between my needs and thoughts of if this was really happening—if she was really letting me hold her—I was hit with all the reasons why she had remained a dream.
Because she wasn’t mine. She couldn’t be.
Not when she clung so damn hard to Sawyer. Not when they followed each other everywhere.
It was then I realized I wasn’t just done with my dad . . .
I wanted to be done with Emberly Olsen and the way she haunted my mind. I wanted to be done with this entire fucking town—with the Cayson Dixon they knew.
My eyelids shut tight as I let the truth of what I wanted wash through me. The heartache of it. But I knew it couldn’t hurt worse than the last ten years of my life had.
It wouldn’t hurt worse than the inevitable day Sawyer and Emberly got together.
“I know you,” she said when my hands slipped away from her. “I’ve seen you, Cayson. When you think no one’s looking. I’ve seen behind that mask.”
My eyes snapped open and held hers.
Hazel eyes so wide and filled with so much confusion, pain, and desperation that I was itching to pull her into my arms again.
No.
Done, done, I’m done.
I let myself take her in one last time.
Wanting to commit her to memory but telling myself it was better if I didn’t. Better if I tried to forget her and everything else about Amber, Texas.
“You don’t know me at all, Little Duck.”
Her brows pulled together. “What?” The word was nothing more than a breath, but then she was reaching for me and calling out my name when I slipped past her.
Her voice replayed in my mind as I hurried away from the plantation house to the auto repair shop my truck was still parked outside of.
It was a torturous plea all the way home and through packing only what I absolutely needed in a small bag.
It was a hushed chant as I waited for my family to come home.
It was a somber whisper as I sped out of Amber in the middle of the night without looking back.
Hand secured in my hair.
Chest heaving.
Soul aching.
It took more than a day for my phone to start ringing.
Mom repeatedly calling, leaving messages, asking where I was and demanding I come home. Then frantically begging me to come back when she must’ve realized I was gone, gone.
Another four days later, her calls stopped and the ones from my brothers started.
Again and again and again. Each time leaving messages that shifted from disbelief to seething with their hatred of me for what I had done.
Dad had died of a heart attack . . . and they were all blaming me.
“Why am I doing this?�
�� I asked with a weighted sigh, letting the hand that was holding my mascara fall.
“Because it’s necessary,” Rae said for what had to be the hundredth time.
“Yeah, that I’ve heard, but why?”
Her stare shifted to meet mine in the reflective glass, softening and encouraging and matching her tone. “Because you don’t know yet. Sawyer could’ve stopped him on his way back here, Cayson might not have any idea about Kip and the rest of what went on today.”
My head slanted, and I started to tell her how wrong she was, but she continued before I could speak.
“Also, the town was already starting to talk about why you were hiding out before I came this way. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like once they know Kip came back so soon, only to leave just as fast after you hadn’t been seen or heard from all morning.”
“I’m allowed not to show up one morning,” I said, irritation leaking through. “I’m there every day, most of those days at opening and closing.”
“I know you are, Em. Everyone knows you are. You’re right—you’re more than allowed a morning . . . hell, take a day or two. God knows you deserve the time.” She leaned against the counter and turned so she was looking directly at me instead of in the mirror. Her eyes bored into mine, making sure I heard her when she said, “But even when you don’t go into Brewed for a few hours, you’re out around town doing something. You slip in to check on the shop. Everyone still sees you. They never talk about you this way. With the Cayson and Kip situations, let’s make sure they have nothing to talk about. Be seen, if even for a second.”
I bobbed a little nod and went back to doing my makeup even though there was no hiding the bloodshot and puffy eyes.
Rae had practically shoved me into a shower after I found Cayson’s note. Tossing makeup remover and my toothbrush at me as she did, saying we had things to do.
Sitting on the floor, wallowing in soul-searing pain and staring at a drawing of a coffee cup wasn’t included in those things apparently. I would’ve preferred it.
“I didn’t know he could draw,” I mumbled as I tried to cover the dark and puffy circles, my hand once again coming to a halt before slowly falling to the counter.
“The cup?” she asked knowingly.
“I know it was just a cup, but it was really good.” I met her stare. “Right?”
Whiskey (Brewed Book 2) Page 20
