Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  “Maybe Sasquatch needed a new shirt. Yours is probably one of the few that would fit him.”

  “So the squirrels work for Sasquatch now?”

  “It would explain a lot.”

  Shaking my head, I followed her inside, but didn’t bother to point out that Sasquatch wasn’t real. I honestly wasn’t sure if she believed all the old myths and stories, or just acted like she did to mess with people. But she’d always insisted Sasquatch lived in the mountains outside Tilikum. Although Bigfoot leading an army of squirrels was a new one—and weird, even for Gram.

  She pulled a pot out of a cupboard, and I didn’t wait for her to tell me I smelled like a wild animal. I went straight upstairs to shower.

  The water felt good on my tired body. Relaxing in a hot shower was another luxury I’d never again take for granted. I stood beneath the spray, letting it ease the tension in my back and shoulders.

  I finished and dug through a box in my room for more clean clothes. The shirt strained across my back and I had to pull at the sleeves so they didn’t cut into my arms.

  Voices carried from the kitchen and I wondered who was here. It was more than one person, probably several. I hesitated at the top of the stairs, not sure I wanted to go down there. The last thing I wanted to do was be social.

  But the scent of food hit my nose and I was a goner. If that was frybread I smelled, Gram was probably making it on purpose to tempt me into coming down.

  It worked.

  Fortunately, the kitchen was only full of my brothers. That, I could handle.

  Levi and Gavin sat at the table, while Logan leaned his hip against the counter, just within arm’s reach of a heaping pile of frybread. Evan stood in the middle of the room, frozen mid-stride, like he’d been doing something and stopped when he caught sight of me.

  In fact, they were all looking at me weird.

  “What? Did you guys forget I was here?”

  “No.” Logan reached for a piece and a wooden spoon cracked against his knuckles. “Ow.”

  Gram slid the plate of frybread away from Logan.

  He moved, joining the others at the table, and I realized why everyone—except Gram—was watching me awkwardly.

  Grace stood next to Gram, stirring something in a big pot on the stove. She glanced at me over her shoulder but didn’t say anything.

  Fuck.

  I had a flashback to my teenage self, standing in this very kitchen, looking at a younger Grace. The moment I’d realized my feelings for my childhood best friend had changed. I’d worried about what would happen if we dated and it didn’t work out. Our families were so close, how would that work? Could I risk it?

  The sense of responsibility I felt toward both our families had held me back—until it hadn’t. And now I was faced with the very thing I’d feared all those years ago. It hadn’t worked out between me and Grace—through no fault of hers—and it wasn’t going to. I couldn’t drag her through my shit—couldn’t ask her to travel the dark road I was on. There was just no way.

  But here she was, stirring dinner in Gram’s kitchen. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was Tuesday, which meant Tuesday dinner, and that Grace had probably been coming every week since I’d been gone.

  This was so fucking complicated.

  “Good, you’re dressed.” Gram set a piece of frybread on the pile and wiped her hands on her apron. “Run to the store for me, would you, Bear? I’m all out of heavy cream and I need it for the chowder.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Grace can go with you.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s fine, Gram, I remember how to get to the store.”

  “Mm hmm.” She took the spoon out of Grace’s hand. “Hurry up. Once I let these animals at that frybread, it won’t last five seconds. If you don’t get back in time, that’s your fault.”

  “Subtle, Gram,” Grace said and headed for the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

  I blew out a breath and followed.

  10

  Grace

  Asher climbed into my car and adjusted the seat backward. I started the engine and fastened my seatbelt, trying to keep my expression neutral—to hide the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

  I’d debated staying home. I almost never missed a Tuesday dinner at Gram’s, but I hadn’t been sure about tonight. Aside from the text to give me his new number, Asher and I hadn’t talked since Sunday. We weren’t exactly on a roll, here, and I was struggling with the sickening realization that I might have made an enormous mistake.

  Maybe he’d been right, and I should have moved on.

  His ring still glinted on my finger. I hadn’t taken it off yet, but I wasn’t an idiot. At least, not a total idiot. It was very possible everyone who’d ever patted my arm with pity in their eyes and told me they were concerned had been right. That Asher’s silence had not been an act of self-preservation, but an attempt to drive home the fact that he and I were over. That his prison sentence had truly meant the end of us.

  My emotional side wanted to crumple into a ball and sob. My practical side wanted to reserve judgment until we had a conversation that didn’t end with one of us telling the other to leave.

  And my stubborn side? That part of me was mostly pissed off.

  Asher didn’t say anything while I drove to the store, just watched the scenery go by. I wondered how different things looked to him now. Was anything familiar? Or had things changed enough that Tilikum didn’t feel like home anymore?

  Or maybe he’d changed so much this place would never feel like home.

  I cast quick glances at him. At his wide shoulders and broad chest. At his hands resting on his thick thighs. His bruised and battered knuckles. The taped cut on his forehead.

  He shifted in his seat and that subtle movement was enough to remind me that there was yet another part of me—a part that wasn’t sad, or angry, or interested in problem solving.

  That part resided directly between my legs and it craved him like a drug.

  The first two times I’d seen him had been emotionally charged and confusing, drowning out my more primal, physical responses. Now I was calm and next to him in an enclosed space. His hair was damp, he smelled clean, and I had to fight down the urge to pull over and climb into his lap.

  It occurred to me that I could. I could make up a quick excuse to turn down an empty road where we had a good chance of being alone. I’d be risking a hefty dose of rejection, but what would he do if I stripped off my shirt and put my boobs in his face? Would he really tell me to stop?

  I dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. I knew him too well. Asher hated being manipulated, and sexual aggression was not the way to get through his defenses. Even if he gave in, he’d only shut me out harder when the moment had passed, leaving us both feeling worse than before.

  And at this point, the fact that I was still physically attracted to him was only making this more complicated for me. Doubt warred with the resolve I’d clung to for so long. As much as I hated to admit it, I had to face the possibility that I’d been holding onto a dream that no longer existed. And wanting him so badly just made this confusing.

  I pulled into the Nature’s Basket Grocery parking lot and found a spot. The light on my phone flashed with a notification, so I swiped the screen to check. It was a group text from my half-brother, Cooper. As soon as I opened it, I laughed out loud. Asher glanced at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Sorry. It’s just Cooper. He’s one of my older brothers. Although maybe you don’t know that story yet.”

  “No, I do. I read your letters.”

  “All of them?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh. Okay, well… that’s good.” I angled my phone so he could see. “Cooper and his wife Amelia have twin baby boys and he sent me this.”

  The photo showed Cooper’s babies sleeping soundly in matching bouncy chairs. He’d stacked towers of Cheerios on their foreheads and the message read, new record.

  “Why do th
ey have cereal on their heads?”

  I shrugged. “Because Cooper. You kind of have to meet him to understand.”

  Another text came through, this one from Leo. It was a picture of his baby boy, also napping, with an even taller stack of Cheerios on his forehead. The message said, suck it, Coop.

  “And that would be another one of my nephews.”

  I wondered how long it would take for Roland to send a picture of his baby daughter with a stack of Cheerios on her forehead. I wouldn’t have thought Roland would be into this kind of thing—he was the serious one in the family—but the three of them had been trying to outdo each other for weeks. It was both ridiculous and adorable.

  “How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Asher asked.

  “Let’s see… Roland and Zoe have two now. Cooper and Amelia have the twins. Then there’s Leo and Hannah, they also have two. And my sister Brynn and her husband Chase are pregnant with their first. So six, soon to be seven.”

  I stubbornly tamped down the flare of envy that tried to creep up on me. I was happy for my siblings. They all deserved every bit of their happiness, and more. But over the last few years, I’d watched them all get married and start families. And here I was, with a ring on my finger that might not mean anything.

  Asher and I probably would have had kids by now. And those kids would have had all these adorable cousins to grow up with.

  I put away my phone, trying to chase away that thought. Wallowing in sadness for what I didn’t have wasn’t going to change anything.

  “I guess we should go in so we can get back.” I unfastened my seatbelt.

  Asher ran his hands up and down his thighs and his jaw clenched tight.

  “Are you okay?”

  He kept his eyes forward and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Fine.”

  Before I could stop myself, I laid a hand on his arm. He was not fine. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think you are.”

  “It’s fucking ridiculous. It’s a goddamn store.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve been out?”

  Still not looking at me, he nodded again.

  I squeezed his arm gently. It was rock solid, knotted with tension. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

  For a second, I thought he might not get out of the car, and a strange sense of panic swept through me. I’d have to go in by myself.

  Which of course was fine. I was fine. I wasn’t the one who’d spent seven years in prison.

  He blew out a breath and unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  We got out of the car, and concern for him pushed aside the spark of relief I felt at not having to go in alone. I’d read everything I could find on the transition from prison life to the outside world, and I knew inmates often struggled at first with everyday things. This was probably to be expected.

  Gram had said she needed heavy cream, so I beelined straight for the dairy section. Asher stayed close, scanning the aisles, like he was expecting trouble to pop up any second. I grabbed a carton of cream and we went to the front to check out. There was one person in front of us, so we waited.

  Gil Hargrave, a guy in his sixties who owned the Gas N’ Grub just off the highway, stopped in his tracks. His mouth dropped open as he stared at Asher.

  Asher’s eyes narrowed and he stared right back.

  “Hey, Gil,” I said, raising my voice, hoping to jolt him. “How’s Edna?”

  Gil startled, finally closing his mouth. “Oh, hi there Grace. Edna’s fine.”

  “Good to hear. I bet she’s anxious for you to get home.”

  His eyes darted to Asher once more, but he nodded. “Yeah, she is. Have a nice night.”

  “You too.” I waved as he continued deeper into the store, then crossed my arms. “What is wrong with people? It’s not like he doesn’t know who you are.”

  Asher didn’t say anything. Just made a growly noise in his throat.

  God, I wished he wouldn’t do things like that. There was a fine line between angry noises and sex noises, and he was walking it.

  We checked out and drove back to Gram’s house. When we got inside, I handed her the carton of cream. She immediately put it in the fridge.

  “I thought you needed that for the chowder.”

  “Oh, I found another one. Seems I actually had plenty.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her.

  She patted my arm. “Dish up, Gracie Bear. It’s getting cold.”

  I glanced at Asher and he shook his head.

  We all settled down to dinner at the big farmhouse table. I purposely didn’t sit next to or across from Asher. My feelings were all over the place. I needed a little buffer between us.

  But it felt good for us all to be together again. No empty chair with an extra place setting. She’d set one for him every time. And every time, it had hurt.

  Now he was here.

  Dinner was noisy and delicious. We ate Gram’s homemade chicken corn chowder and frybread with butter and honey. By the time the meal was over, I was stuffed.

  And still unsettled.

  I was about to offer to clean up, but without a word, Evan started washing the dishes. Gavin and Levi were already clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. There wasn’t anything left to help with, but I couldn’t quite make myself go home, either.

  I wandered out to the back porch and leaned against the railing, looking out into the darkness. The door shut out the noise from inside, leaving me alone with the crickets and frogs. The faint trickle of the creek down the hill.

  Someone else came out and I didn’t have to look to know it was him.

  He stood next to me and leaned his forearms against the porch railing. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low. “Lot of memories out here.”

  “So many.”

  Parties, bonfires, barbecues. Picking berries and digging up weeds in Gram’s garden. Climbing trees. Playing down by the creek. Walking hand in hand as he led me away from the twins’ graduation party, the night everything changed.

  “It’s hard to explain,” he said.

  “What is?”

  “Why I freaked out about going into the store. It probably sounds crazy, but I suddenly felt like I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t know who’d be in there or how I’d get out if shit got bad. And no, I don’t know what would go bad in a grocery store.”

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing Gram made you go with me. Who knows how long I’d have sat in the parking lot by myself.”

  Not for the first time—or the second, or the fifth, or the twentieth—my heart broke wide open for him. “I’m glad I was there.”

  “Me too.” He paused for a moment, still looking out into the night. “I know I’m probably more fucked up than I should be. It’s not like it was twenty years.”

  I wanted to ask why. What had happened to him? But I had a feeling that, whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  “I don’t think there’s a rule book,” I said. “You’ve been through hell. Of course it fucked you up.”

  He glanced at me, his dark eyes intense. “Why don’t you hate me?”

  “For what? Breaking up with me without giving me a chance to respond, or cutting me out of your life for so long?”

  “Both.”

  I fiddled with my engagement ring. “I hate what you’ve been through and that I had to live without you for so long. And don’t get me wrong, your silence sucked. But I kind of understood. It wasn’t like it was just me—you wouldn’t talk to anyone. That took some of the sting out of it. It’s been hard, but I don’t hate you.”

  He looked away again, still leaning against the railing. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a shitty situation worse for you.”

  “I know. I never thought you did it to hurt me.”

  “I didn’t. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a jackass since I got home.
I’ve been living with criminals for the better part of a decade. My people skills are pretty rusty.”

  I laughed softly. “Yeah, we’re going to have to work on that.”

  “But the thing is, I’m not the guy who gave you that ring anymore. I need you to understand that.”

  But do you still love me? I let the question die on my lips. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the answer. “Well, I’m different too.”

  “Yeah…” He trailed off and I wondered what that meant. What did he see when he looked at me now? “I can’t go back to being who I was, and I honestly don’t know where I’m going to end up. And I’ve seen shit, Grace. I’ve seen shit, and I’ve done shit. I don’t even want to tell you some of the things—” He stopped mid-sentence and his head dropped.

  I kept my gaze on the darkness, my heart lodged in my throat. I didn’t think I could reply if I tried.

  “I know it hurts to hear this,” he continued. “It hurts to say it. But I can’t be with you. I’m too much of a wreck.”

  “Asher, it’s only been a few days. Things are going to get better.”

  “Are they?” There was an edge to his voice. “This isn’t about me getting used to life on the outside. I’m not the man you think I am. Not anymore.”

  Once again, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe he was right.

  He turned toward me and in the dim light, his eyes were deep pools of black. I sank into his gaze, searching.

  In that moment, I found him.

  Asher was a wounded animal, full of anger and pain. Ready to lash out to protect himself. But he was still in there. Not the Asher from before. He was right, he’d never be that man again. No one could come out of what he’d been through unscathed—unchanged.

  But he was still Asher Bailey.

  And I still loved him.

  Blind stubbornness hadn’t kept me loyal to him. It was so much simpler—and so much harder—than that. It was love.

  I loved this man. That was why I’d waited. Why I’d accepted his silence, kept his ring on my finger, and remained faithful. We were two halves of the same whole. Two souls meant to be connected to each other. Nothing was ever going to change that.