“Do you know how disgusting it feels to know I took all that pain and put it into my nights with you? The guy who was behind it all along? The guy who knew exactly what I’d been through and kept it from me?”
“Don’t say that. I—” A heavy, aching breath left him.
I dropped my head into my hands. But my hands were shaking so fiercely I finally just curled them into fists and lowered them into my lap.
I’d wanted so badly to hate Cayson. I’d wanted to cling to it and the pain he’d caused so I would stay far from him, and I’d fallen into his arms instead.
But it’d been inevitable. My love for him had always been so much stronger than everything else.
And I wondered if a part of me had always known. Through the pain and years and contempt . . . maybe I was able to fall for Cayson because, deep down, I’d known he could never be behind all the horrible things I’d endured.
“Don’t say that,” Kip finally continued. “Emberly, despite what you think about these months, I do love you.”
My shoulders jerked with a muted laugh.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for those years,” he said, voice pleading. “Name it, I’ll do it.”
And then he was in front of me. On his knees and trying to catch my stare.
“I didn’t know you—that isn’t an excuse,” he added quickly when my lips parted. “I mean, fuck, of course I knew who you were. This is Amber. But I didn’t know you. Not until that night I found you stumbling down Main Street, and I knew I couldn’t leave you there. Knew I couldn’t leave you alone. And while I sat with you and took care of you, it gutted me because I was looking at this girl who was broken because of me.”
“That night wasn’t because of you,” I ground out.
“I know.” His head slanted but his eyes never left mine. “I didn’t know that then. But I would’ve done anything that night to take back all those years, and I’ll do anything now.”
I wanted to scream there was nothing to change what had happened. To erase memories that had plagued me.
Changed me.
I started to shake my head only to pause. “Anything?”
His expression shifted. That hardened desperation coming back and mixing with his determination to do whatever it took to keep me.
To keep me away from Cayson.
“Anything,” he agreed.
“Come.”
Seconds passed before a crease formed between his brows, his head shifting with confusion. “Okay, where?”
“No. Come.” I let my stare dip before meeting his eyes again. “The faster you come, the faster you go.” I said each word slowly, carefully, making sure he heard them and understood exactly what I meant.
His face fell before a startled laugh left him. “Emberly, are you—I’m not—what, you want me to jack off to make up for what happened?”
I didn’t respond, just stared at him as that cold tremble continued through me over and over again.
“The fuck,” he hissed as he stood, forcing his hands through his hair as he rocked back a step. “What, are you gonna record it?”
I lifted my hands to show I didn’t have my phone before letting them fall to the arms of the chair.
Gripping tight.
Waiting.
He watched me for a while longer before hissing another curse and reaching for his jeans. “Gotta be kidding me,” he muttered. “I’m all about coming for you, babe, but this is . . .” His head moved in sharp shakes, a brutal laugh bursting free as his hands moved to his hips.
The moment he began lowering his pants and briefs, I struck. Using the humiliation from every painful memory to shove my booted foot into his groin as hard as I could.
When he bent, I stood. Grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back enough to deliver a straight punch to his nose.
I felt the crunch.
I saw the blood rush as he fell to his knees and then to his side, curling into a ball and grunting curses and what he thought of me.
Not that I cared. I just knew it hadn’t felt like nearly enough.
But as I stared at him, gently testing out my knuckles, I had a feeling it would never be enough because nothing could ever take those years away.
Once his seething faded, I spoke, my words coming much calmer than I felt. “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right the other day. I am incredibly codependent in my independence, as ridiculous as that sounds. I’m also irrationally insecure, and I spent years killing myself, building walls and shields so no one would ever know. So they would only see this,” I said through gritted teeth, gesturing to myself. “And it’s all because of you.”
With narrowed eyes set on me and blood covering half of his face, Kip didn’t look like the man who had helped ease my pain these past years.
He looked like the monster I’d always imagined belonged with my nightmares.
“I should’ve done something long ago. I should’ve told someone.” I nodded absentmindedly as I reprimanded myself for the umpteenth time, wishing I’d done so many things differently. “I want so badly to make you and all of them pay. But I don’t know how.” My shoulders lifted and a weak smile tugged at my lips. “How can I when you were never there, and your friend who always lead everything and took it the furthest—who eagerly touched and abused—died overseas a few years ago?”
That seemed to give Kip pause.
Not the news about his chosen leader. But the knowledge that I most likely couldn’t do a thing.
Not in this small town. Not unless I wanted to try to take it to court and get the remaining guys to incriminate themselves.
I walked around him until I was standing against the doorframe, using it to help support me when I felt so drained from this conversation . . . from these past days.
“I could’ve never pressed charges against Cayson,” I admitted when he shifted to sitting and ignored his slanted glare. “I don’t know if it’s because I never knew for sure, or if it’s simply because it was him. And I know that doesn’t make any of what I’m saying fair or right.” My jaw trembled and the next words came out strangled. “Do you see why I agonized over my feelings for him? Why I was sure there was something wrong with me? Hating and being disgusted with him while still being desperately in love with him?”
“Tell me again how in love with Cayson fucking Dixon you are,” he bit out.
“I would gladly,” I said softly, my chest wrenching with a pain so excruciating it was a wonder how people could survive this kind of heartbreak. “Except I destroyed us, and talking about loving him in the present hurts more than I can describe.”
His anger and betrayal exploded through the room like a living thing, and I simply stood in it, letting it surround and devour me.
“I fucking knew it.”
“The whole insecurity thing . . .” I continued as if Kip hadn’t spoken. “It’s always there in the back of my mind. It’s been there since—well, you. It ruled my days with him. It caused me to ruin what I finally had with him. And I hate you even more for it.”
A scoff fell from him as he wiped at his face, his lips curling in a mixture of physical pain and anger. “Piece of shit,” left him on a breath.
“When you leave my store, Kip Hedrin, understand that I never want to see or hear from you again.”
Despite it all, his shoulders fell and his expression twisted with dread. “Em—”
“Never.” When I was sure he wasn’t going to interrupt again, I said, “If you come to my store or home, or mess with me in any way, I will immediately press charges. And if you ever go near any of the Dixons, I will lock you in a room with all of them and tell them about the corn maze.”
I let that sink in.
Let his fear at that thought take over everything else for a moment before stepping to the side. “Get out.”
I glanced around the crowded street.
My gaze automatically darting over to where the Brewed booths were set up.
She could’ve c
ome back. Slipped into one of the booths during any of the times someone had come up to ours. Wanting to buy or just talk . . . or offer themselves up forever.
Hunter always gave a little laugh before pushing a jar of sliced or jammed peaches toward them in offering, as if their propositions were supposed to be nothing more than a joke.
They weren’t.
I always just looked across the street again, hoping to get a glimpse of Emberly.
“Talk to her earlier?” Hunter asked when he noticed where my attention had gone again.
An irritated grunt sounded in my chest. “Barely saw her. She ran into Brewed like I was the one who ended things.”
“You gonna?”
Another grunt.
“Sounds good,” he said on a sigh.
“You told me I had to make it through this. I’m here. I’m making it.”
He lifted a hand before letting it fall. “The hell did I say?”
I slanted a glare his way before my focus automatically shifted back to Brewed’s booths.
Hunter’s comments were forgotten as I watched.
Stilled.
Straightened as the person first in line for the bar pointed behind Emberly’s bartenders, toward the actual Brewed store, causing Brady to turn and run.
I moved to Hunter’s other side so I could try to see what she’d been pointing at, what Brady had been running toward, but there was nothing.
“Oh, why, Cayson Dixon, it is you!”
I reluctantly tore my attention away and settled on the woman in front of me. Smiling sweetly as if she were remembering fond memories while my stomach had dropped the instant I recognized her.
Mrs. Lange.
The Lange farm had been my favorite place to help pull off my pranks.
Their only daughter had moved away decades before I was born and only visited with her family on holidays.
With Mr. and Mrs. Lange pretty up there in age, it was easy to sneak onto their property and remove a goat or two or fifteen—or a cow—before they noticed I was there. And I always put them back.
When I wasn’t getting arrested for it.
So, for her to have anything fond to remember made me think they’d liked having me arrested.
She adjusted her bifocals and took a step closer, fingers unsteady with age reaching out to grasp my chin so she could turn my head just slightly. Nodding to herself as if that angle told her whatever she needed to know.
“I heard you were back, but I had yet to see for myself,” she said after releasing me. “Now I have, and it’s so good to see you.”
An uneasy laugh crawled up my throat, and I scratched at my forehead. “Good? That sure isn’t a word I would’ve ever thought you’d use in connection with me, ma’am, but it’s good to see you too.”
She waved me off. “Oh, pesh. You kept us young for so long with all your shenanigans. We were quite distressed when you left, and our animals were plumb bored with no one to give them some excitement and a change of scenery every now and then.”
Hunter snorted. “One way to phrase stealing.”
I smacked him.
Mrs. Lange just chuckled. “It was all in good fun, we knew that.”
“Ma’am . . .” I cleared my throat and tried to figure out a way to phrase my words so I didn’t sound resentful, because I wasn’t. It was too damn long ago, and I’d deserved it. “You do remember having me arrested, right? Multiple times.”
“Well, we had to.” She glanced around at the growing number of townspeople before leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “If we hadn’t, all the town hooligans would’ve been coming onto our property. And who knows if they would’ve brought our animals back.”
“That’s right,” Hunter said, amusement coating his words. “Y’all had to make a statement.”
She pointed at him. “Damn right.”
The curse sounded so foreign coming from a woman as sweet and gentle-looking as her, that I choked on a laugh I desperately tried to suppress.
“Oh, but we loved Cayson.” She gave me another fond smile. “My Hank talked about you often, even after you’d left. He never gave up hope that you would come home to Amber. And here you are.” She reached out to grab my wrist with frail fingers. “You were a good kid. You made life fun again for a couple old folks.”
Damn.
What was I supposed to say to that?
How was I supposed to respond at all when my throat felt tight and my chest was burning?
I just turned and wove my way through the crates of jars to leave the booth. Jogging around it until I’d reached the front to pull her in for a gentle hug.
“Oh.” A soft laugh left her as she tried to wrap her arms around me.
“Thank you.” It was all I could manage.
What she’d said meant more than she could realize.
“Thank you for coming back.” She gave me another one of those fond smiles when I released her and stepped back, patting my arm slowly as though she wanted to make sure I was really there. “Hank would be thrilled.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, meaningfully.
I hadn’t heard he’d passed, but it was easy enough to conclude with the way she spoke about him.
“Me too . . . some days.” She gave a fragile shrug. “Other days, I think about the life we had, and I know that old fool would be grumbling at me for being sad. So, I’m not.” She grinned, then turned it on Hunter before giving me one last pat and stepping away, calling out as she did, “You come see me, Cayson.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Whoop! Oh, sorry, Mrs. Lange,” Jennifer called out hastily as she maneuvered around the woman. Touching her shoulder as if to steady Mrs. Lange, though I wasn’t sure Jennifer had even bumped into her.
My stare drifted in the direction of the Brewed booths and the store once again, but there was still no sign of Emberly.
“So sorry, always love seeing you.” Jennifer’s voice was somehow polite and dismissive before she turned to me, her brows raising high. “Hey, boyfriend.”
“Jennifer.”
She brought her hands in front of her, the tips of her fingers touching as if she were about to divulge gossip she’d been storing. “Okay, so, I have no idea what’s actually going on because I didn’t see it.” Her eyes rolled in annoyance. “But Katie told me that Shannon saw Kip leaving our store looking super pissed with a busted face and blood everywhere.”
I’d gone absolutely still at the mention of Kip.
As soon as she’d said what state he’d been in, my blood had started pounding through my veins, my head turning and eyes searching everywhere for him.
“Brady went running into the store because Emberly had been the only one in there.”
“The fuck, Jennifer,” I yelled as I started past her. “You start with that!”
I rushed through the groups of people gathering around the booths and walking down the street. The short distance feeling like miles when I wasn’t sure if Emberly was okay. What had happened.
Kip with a busted face?
Easily explained—Sawyer. Fuck, even Brady considering I’d seen him run into Brewed not long before.
Knowing it had only been Kip and Emberly left a sinking pit in my stomach. The fact that Brady still hadn’t come out made it feel like I was running through wet cement.
When I finally pushed through the doors of Brewed, I took what felt like my first real breath.
When I heard Emberly’s voice coming from the back, I stumbled. Slowed. Tried to control my breathing and the wrath threatening to burst from me.
“You can’t make drinks,” Brady began when I pushed through the door leading to the back hallway. “I mean, look at it.”
“For the last time, my hand is fine,” Emberly said, trying to be assuring even though her exasperation was leaking through.
I came to a stop and dragged my hands over my face, forcing myself to breathe. Forcing myself to stay there and not leave to find Kip. Make him be the one
to tell me why she’d hit him.
To get in a few myself.
“Please get back out there and make sure everything’s running smoothly,” she continued. “I’ll be out soon.” There was a pause before she said his name, less pleading and more commanding.
And then he was rounding into the hall as a heavy sigh left him, stopping short when he saw me there.
His face screwed up in irritation as if he were going to ask what I was doing there or tell me to leave. But then his entire body seemed to sag, head bobbing in approval as he continued past me.
I waited until the door leading to the bar had closed behind him before taking a step toward the office. Toward her.
With each step and each breath, evaluating where I was. Making sure I could stay calm and not go rushing in there in a panicked rage. Sure I wouldn’t turn and hunt down someone I had no doubt deserved more than a busted face.
“Brady,” she ground out, all aggravation and exhaustion, turning around at the exact moment I walked in.
One of her hands shot to the desk to keep her standing when her knees buckled, her expression falling as she took me in the way I was her.
The way she somehow looked so damn strong, yet broken.
Fierce but vulnerable.
Guarded while silently baring her soul.
Beautiful in her contradictions, and I wanted it all.
I folded my arms over my chest to keep from reaching for her, and finally noticed the ends of the thin towel hanging from her left hand. The lumpy mass it was wrapped around in her palm.
My jaw ached from the sudden pressure I put on it when I glanced to where she was clutching the desk. A couple of her knuckles were split, dried blood staining the area and doing nothing to hide the deep blue and purple bruises or swelling.
I erased the distance between us . . . forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to . . . forgetting that at any second, she would probably tell me to leave, and reached for her injured hand.
“Ow.” Surprise stole across her face as if she’d forgotten all about it until I’d touched her. “Oh,” she whispered as she hurried to pull her hand closer as if she could hide it from me.
I just reached for her hand again and grabbed the ice-filled towel from the other. Keeping my movements gentle but deliberate enough to let her know I was going to take care of her.
Whiskey (Brewed Book 2) Page 35
