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

by Claire Kingsley

  But like a wounded animal, I couldn’t approach too quickly. I had to get past all that anger and fear before I could help him begin to heal.

  I’d been patient for a long time. I wasn’t about to give up now.

  So I softened my expression with a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you’re home.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Me too.”

  Lifting my eyebrows, I held out my arms. “Welcome home hug? You didn’t let me give you one the first time.”

  “Sure.”

  I stepped in and draped my arms around his neck. His body was a solid wall of muscle, but his thick arms were gentle as they wrapped around me. I hesitated there for a moment, savoring everything. His warmth, his scent, his touch.

  All too soon, he let go. I moved back, dropping my arms to my sides.

  We hadn’t said our vows—hadn’t declared in front of family and friends that we’d be true in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. But I’d kept those vows anyway, and I didn’t regret a single second of it. Because this was love. Messy, imperfect, painful love.

  And I wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  Dear Asher

  Dear Asher,

  You’re not going to believe this. My father has another family.

  We haven’t heard from him in a long time and my mom was being crushed by all of Elijah’s medical bills. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I tracked him down.

  You know how he always said he lived in Seattle and worked in the city? That was a lie. Until recently, he lived over in Echo Creek. That close, the asshole. He and his wife—yeah, his wife—own a winery there.

  It gets worse. Not only is he married, he’s always been married—even when he was with my mom—and they have kids. Four of them. I have three older brothers and a younger sister, and they didn’t have any idea that Elijah and I existed.

  I spent my entire life believing my father was just a jerk with commitment issues who chose his career over his family. But we were never his family. We were a mistake he tried to hide.

  He’s not with his wife anymore. She found out he was having an affair—another one, the piece of shit—and kicked him out. Who knows how many other women there have been. And god, my mom was one of them.

  There was a horrible moment, just before I told her, when I wondered if she’d known and kept it from me. But she was even more shocked than I was. She’d suspected there was a lot more going on than he told her, and she knew he was a chronic liar. But she didn’t know he was married.

  Part of me wishes she’d never had to find out. She’s devastated. I’ve seen her upset before, but I’ve never seen her look so broken. It’s awful. I want to help, but I honestly have no idea what to do.

  I guess there is some good news in all this. My half-siblings seem great. Roland, the oldest, totally bailed out my mom. He made sure all Elijah’s medical bills were paid, just like that. She argued with him about it. A lot. But he wouldn’t budge. I think they’re all good people, which means none of them take after the jerk who fathered all of us. So that’s something.

  Now we have to figure out how to explain everything to Elijah. I don’t know how to make a little kid understand something like this. He doesn’t have any memories of our dad. But he knows something is going on. The kid is too freaking smart. Honestly, we’re probably not giving him enough credit.

  I’m not sure what’s going to happen now. I’d like to get to know my sister and brothers. After all, we’re related. In a weird way, we’re family. But I’m not sure how much they want to get to know me. Don’t get me wrong, they’ve been nothing but nice to me. But it’s so complicated. They were already dealing with the fallout of finding out their dad had been cheating on their mom, and then I showed up.

  I know what you’d say if you were here. You’d tell me it isn’t my fault. That I didn’t have a choice in the man who fathered me. And of course you’d be right. But I still feel kind of awful about it. My fault or not, the fact that I exist has hurt a lot of people. I’m not quite sure how to deal with that.

  Missing you,

  Grace

  11

  Asher

  There was something disconcerting about being in a place so familiar when I was so different, even a week after coming home. Maybe Gram was right and I just needed time. But like my old clothes, it felt like nothing quite fit right.

  I sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through job openings. Tilikum wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis. Pickings were slim. A handful of the jobs were out simply because of who owned the businesses—hazard of being a Bailey. A Haven wouldn’t have hired me before; they certainly wouldn’t now. As for the rest, I’d have to take my chances and hope someone would give me a shot.

  Not for the first time, I wondered if I should stay.

  The news that I was home had already spread through town like a summer wildfire. That part didn’t surprise me. This town loved gossip the way some places loved a local sports team. What was surprising was the curiosity about me. It wasn’t enough for people to know I was back. They wanted a look at me.

  Mrs. Appleton had come down our private drive on Wednesday, claiming she’d taken a wrong turn. Judge Turner and his wife had done the same thing yesterday. Mabel Wheatley had stopped by with daffodils from her garden, saying she thought we’d enjoy fresh-cut flowers—apparently ignoring the mass of yellow flowers already blooming in Gram’s yard.

  Gram’s fridge and freezer were stuffed full of food people had brought over. Every time, they’d stand at the door clutching a foil-wrapped dish, craning their neck to see inside, trying to get a glimpse of me.

  Gram handled the nosy intrusions with quiet amusement. They made anger simmer in my gut, but I tried to ignore them.

  I wasn’t concerned about the random townspeople showing up unannounced, hoping to get a look at the ex-con. But there were a lot of people from my past that I hadn’t seen yet, and I had no idea what to expect from those reunions.

  I knew from Logan that Matt and Christian were still with the fire department. Randy had moved away a few years ago. They’d been there that night. All three had written to me shortly after my sentencing, saying they thought it was bullshit—that I shouldn’t have gone to prison. Yet I still wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing them again. They’d been there. They’d seen it all.

  And Chief Stanley. He’d stood by me when I’d gotten into trouble in high school. But that had been a couple of hot-headed kids getting into a fight. This was a lot bigger than that. And I didn’t know what he’d think of the man I was now.

  The back door swung open and Gram came in. She nodded to me and went to the sink to wash her hands. It helped that she didn’t make a big deal out of me being here, nor did she treat me like I was a kid again. She went on with her life as usual, like nothing had changed. It made me feel a little less awkward and out of place.

  My phone dinged with a message and I saw Grace’s name flash across the screen.

  I’d texted her first, when I’d gotten the phone. I probably shouldn’t have. I needed to maintain space between us, not encourage more contact. I’d told myself I just wanted her to have my number. Which was bullshit, and I knew it. She could get my number from Gram or my brothers if she needed to get in touch with me.

  I wasn’t so delusional—or out of touch with my own emotions—that I could deny how I felt about her. I’d loved Grace for most of my life, and I always would. But coming home and slipping back into the life we’d started wasn’t an option. I had too many demons inside me. Violent ones. I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t know if I ever would.

  But I was weak when it came to her. When I’d hugged her Tuesday night, out on the back porch, I’d almost cracked. She’d felt so good, it had taken every ounce of willpower I possessed to pull away. To stop myself from kissing her.

  Now she was like a flame I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch, even though I knew I was going to keep getting b
urned.

  Grace: Some of us are hanging out at the Caboose tonight. Probably around 8. Want to come?

  I blew out a breath. I’d quickly realized that avoiding Grace entirely would be impossible. Not as long as we both lived here in town.

  Which made me wonder, again, whether I should stay.

  Was there a version of this where Grace and I could go back to being friends?

  Maybe part of my transition into the outside world needed to be easing into a new relationship with Grace. I’d told her I couldn’t be with her. She knew where I stood. Maybe learning to be friends was what we both needed to finally move on.

  Someone knocked at the front door, interrupting my thoughts.

  Gram glanced at me. “I’ll get it. You keep brooding over that text.”

  “I’m not brooding.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she said as she walked by.

  I shook my head and texted Grace, saying I’d be there. Might as well give it a shot.

  And if I was being honest—which I didn’t particularly want to be—it was hard to resist the temptation of seeing her.

  Gram’s voice carried from the front of the house. “Afternoon, Rhonda.”

  “Afternoon. So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering…” Rhonda McDonnel—I’d known her as Ms. McDonnel, the school librarian—trailed off for a second and I could practically hear her trying to look past Gram to see inside the house.

  “Wondering what?” Gram asked.

  “Oh—well, I was wondering if you could give me some advice about my tomato plants.”

  “What sort of trouble are you running into?”

  I rolled my eyes. Gossip was a town pastime. Subtlety was not. I doubted Ms. McDonnel even had tomato plants. I got up and glanced down the hallway toward the front door. She caught sight of me and her eyes widened. I held her gaze for a moment, my face blank. She wanted a look at the ex-con? Fine, she could look.

  Gram said something else, but I tuned out the rest of their conversation and went to the fridge to find something to eat.

  Yet another reason I needed a fucking job. I didn’t want Gram to go broke feeding me.

  The front door shut, and Gram came back to the kitchen, muttering something under her breath.

  I closed the fridge. “Ms. McDonnel have a garden emergency?”

  “Maybe I should start charging admission.” There was an edge to her voice.

  “That’s not a bad idea. It could offset your grocery bill.”

  “These busybodies need to come up with better excuses. Tomato plants.” She huffed. “My house is not a zoo and you are not an animal on display.”

  “It’s okay, Gram,” I said. “They’ll get over it soon.”

  She muttered to herself and picked up a large red bowl off the counter. “I’ll be right back. I need to return this to Naomi.”

  “Why don’t I take it?”

  She paused with the bowl in her hands and I couldn’t quite read her expression. Curiosity, maybe.

  Truthfully, I didn’t particularly want to take the bowl next door. I hadn’t seen Grace’s mom yet. But I didn’t want Gram to think I needed her to shield me from everyone. And it would probably be better if I just got it over with.

  “Thank you, Bear.” She handed me the bowl.

  I took it with a nod and left to go next door.

  The house where Grace had grown up looked different than I remembered. It was blue, instead of faded gray. No more peeling paint, and the porch had been rebuilt.

  There weren’t any cars out front, but if someone was home, they might have parked in the garage. I stepped up to the door and hesitated with my fist raised in the air to knock. For a second, I could almost believe this was before. That I was still just a kid who’d fallen in love with the girl next door.

  It fucking sucked that I wasn’t him anymore.

  Pushing that thought aside, I knocked.

  No one answered.

  Wondering if I should leave the bowl on the porch or come back later, I waited another few seconds. It sounded like someone might be inside, so I knocked again, just in case.

  I heard the distinct sound of footsteps, and the door opened.

  A man in a towel blinked at me, his mouth open like he’d been about to say something, but I wasn’t who he’d expected. He was probably in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a sprinkling of gray in his beard. Square jaw. A hard edge to his gaze.

  Holy shit. This must be Jack Cordero, Naomi’s husband. Grace’s stepdad.

  “Sorry.” I shifted the bowl, feeling awkward. “Gram wanted to return this.”

  He hiked up the towel a little. “Thanks. I thought Elijah lost his key again. You must be Asher?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I couldn’t read his expression. He struck me as a man who was accustomed to keeping his cards close. After all, he was a cop.

  What did the chief deputy sheriff think of the ex-con living next door?

  “Jack Cordero.” He held out a hand and I took it in a firm handshake.

  “Asher Bailey. You’re Grace’s stepdad.” I realized a second too late I should have said Naomi’s husband.

  He nodded. “I am. And you’re Grace’s fiancé.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I was, yeah.”

  For a second, he didn’t respond. Just looked at me, his eyes sharp and penetrating. “Good to finally meet you in person.”

  “You too.”

  I glanced past him, into the house. Even with just a quick glimpse, I could tell the inside was different too. The furniture had changed and there was a large wedding photo on the wall.

  I held the bowl out to him, anxious to get out of here. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s no problem.” He took the bowl. “Naomi’s at work, so I’ll just put this in the kitchen for her.”

  “Thanks.”

  My back tightened. There were eyes on me. For all I knew it was just another squirrel, but the rush of adrenaline made my heart race.

  Jack looked past me. “There you are. Hey, pal.”

  Forcing myself to relax my fists, I looked over my shoulder. A kid in a black hoodie stood a few feet from the porch. Dark hair hung in his blue eyes and he had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  Holy shit. Was that Elijah?

  He was huge. Relatively speaking, at least. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been four, maybe four-and-a-half. That meant he was eleven now.

  The kid’s gaze flicked from Jack to me before he quickly looked down.

  “Do you remember Asher?” Jack asked.

  Elijah shrugged, his eyes still downcast. Without looking up, he swept past me and went into the house.

  Jack let out a breath and I didn’t miss the flash of frustration in his expression. “I should see if he needs help with his homework.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thanks. Good to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  He nodded and shut the door.

  I left and walked across the grass to Gram’s house with an odd sense of unease in my gut. That was not the kid I remembered. Elijah had been energetic and full of questions, not quiet and sullen.

  Maybe it was just his age. I’d probably been similar when I was eleven.

  Although when I was eleven, I’d still been recovering from the loss of my parents.

  I’d only seen him for less than a minute, but there had been something in his eyes. A flash of anger. I wasn’t sure if he remembered me, so I didn’t know why he’d be mad. And maybe I’d imagined it. Or maybe he was just an angry kid. I could certainly relate. I had been, too.

  So much had changed. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that some of it wasn’t for the better.

  12

  Grace

  Cara and I got to the Caboose a little early. I’d told her I wanted to make sure we got a table. The funky railroad-themed restaurant and bar was a popular spot, particularly for those of us who didn’t want to hang out at the colleg
e bars. Saturday nights were usually packed.

  But really, I just wanted to make sure I got here before Asher.

  I had an admittedly silly fantasy of him walking in, catching sight of me, and thinking I looked good. Not just good. I wanted him to think I looked amazing. I hoped he’d take one look and remember what my body felt like pinned beneath him.

  It was only fair. Every time I saw him my mind drifted to that hard, muscled body of his. And what he could do to me with it. I just wanted to return the favor.

  I hadn’t gone overboard with the outfit. A long, lightweight cardigan over a black tank top, with jeans and low heels. I’d worn this outfit plenty of times when I went out with Cara. If taking off the cardigan meant showing some extra skin, well, it could get warm in here on a spring night.

  Cara grabbed our gin and tonics from Hank at the bar and we found a spot near the pool tables. As predicted, it was already filling up. I went ahead and slipped off my cardigan.

  “How’s everything going, my beautiful little sunflower?” Cara asked. Unlike mine, her outfit wasn’t the least bit understated. Her loose silver tank top had thin straps, and it was anyone’s guess if she was wearing a bra. Short skirt. Shiny black stilettos. Bright red lips. All very Cara.

  I lifted one shoulder while I took a sip. “Not terrible. You?”

  “I’m fine. You’re still wearing the ring.”

  “Am I?” I held out my hand. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Smartass. So you are still engaged?”

  “We don’t need to talk about that right now.”

  She pursed her lips around her straw and took a sip. “Fine. I’ll let it go for the moment. But can I rake him across the coals when he gets here?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t need you going mama bear on him tonight. Give the guy a break.”

  “You know what the problem is, don’t you? You never should have gotten engaged without my blessing.”