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

by Claire Kingsley

  Using my surprise to her advantage, she straddled my hips, sinking her body weight onto me. She planted her palms in the center of my chest and before I could react, she twisted off, her ass landing on the mat right beside me.

  And she had my arm.

  Clamping my upper arm between her thighs, she threw herself backward, stretching it out as she went.

  I had no leverage in this position. I needed to turn into her so I could keep a bend in my elbow, but it was too late. Her legs pushed my upper body down while she quickly increased the pressure on my arm.

  Holy shit. It didn’t matter how much bigger I was. She could break my arm like this.

  I didn’t give up, still trying to shift my weight and give myself some room. But she redoubled her efforts, squeezing her thighs and bending my arm in the wrong direction. It hurt like a motherfucker. I gritted my teeth, growling against the pain.

  And hit the mat with my other hand, tapping out.

  Instantly, the pressure eased. She released her thighs and let go.

  I stared at the ceiling for a second, breathing hard. She’d actually made me tap out.

  She scooted back and sat up, crossing her legs.

  I turned toward her. “Since when do you know how to do an arm bar?”

  “Since I do. I told you I’d win.”

  Surging forward, I shoved her onto her back and sank my weight over her hips. She wrapped her legs around me and locked her feet. I held her wrists pinned above her head, but she didn’t resist. Just fixed her blue eyes on mine.

  All the reasons I couldn’t have her tried to barrel through my mind. But it was so hard to pay attention to them when I had her pinned to the ground with my groin pressing against hers. My cock hardened between us. I knew she could feel it. Without breaking eye contact, she moved her hips. It was just an inch, but it was enough. That subtle rub against my dick set off a chain reaction of sensation. I pushed harder against her, making her eyelids flutter and her lips part with a soft exhale.

  Just that look on her face was almost enough to make me come all over myself.

  Someone cleared their throat, reminding me where we were. Even with that, it was hard to make myself move. She felt so fucking good. A low groan rumbled in my throat, but I let go of her wrists, moving my hips back.

  We both got to our feet and I took a step away to create some distance. I felt out of it, like I was drunk. And maybe I was. Drunk on her. I could smell her all over me. And the way her skin glistened made me want to lick her.

  She brushed a tendril of hair off her forehead. “Looks like I get a date.”

  “That was the bet. What do you want to do?”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You know me. I’m not fancy.”

  I did know her. Seven years had changed us both—me more than her—but she was still Grace. Still the girl I’d fallen for all those years ago.

  “Thank god you two are done,” a woman’s voice said behind me. “I was wondering if I’d have to pull the fire alarm to clear this place out and give you some privacy.”

  Grace laughed and I glanced behind me. Her friend Cara stood to the side of the mat with her arms crossed. She was dressed in a tank top and even tinier shorts than Grace’s.

  “You know that’s illegal, right?” Grace asked.

  Cara shrugged, like she didn’t care. “Are you ready, or do you want me to come pick you up later?”

  “I’m ready.” Grace started to walk off the mat, but paused in front of me and met my eyes. “So…”

  “How about tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at six?”

  Her lips twitched in a seductive smile and her eyes flicked down to my groin, then back again. “Perfect. See you then.”

  Fuck, she was going to kill me.

  Letting out a breath, I glanced at Cara. She gave me a quick wink, like she approved. Then she followed Grace toward the locker room.

  I stepped off the mat and grabbed my shoes, feeling oddly calm. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so even. Like my mood wasn’t in danger of crashing. I was turned on as hell, the pressure in my groin annoyingly strong. But there were people all around me and my back wasn’t clenched. The ever-present sense of impending danger was still there, but it was muted, like it had moved to the background.

  It felt good.

  I took my stuff to the other side of the gym and set my bag down. My phone buzzed with a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

  It’s Cara. If you need a date idea, I can help.

  That was interesting. I hadn’t taken Grace on a date in a long time. Maybe I could use some advice from her best friend.

  I still didn’t know if I should be doing this. A little skin contact with Grace wasn’t going to suddenly fix me; the sense of calmness I felt was undoubtedly temporary. I had to be careful.

  But I couldn’t deny the ways Grace and I were connected. It was hurting both of us to be apart. I’d been home for almost a month, and that pain wasn’t easing. It was getting worse. The ache in my chest kept growing, and if she felt anything like I did, it was probably close to unbearable.

  I couldn’t win. If I gave in, there were so many ways this could go wrong. So many ways I could fail her. But my efforts to keep us apart, to somehow be friends, were turning into a slow form of torture.

  Gram’s voice crept into my mind. Take your time, Bear.

  Maybe I didn’t have to make a decision about the future right now. I could take Grace out and let that be what it was. A date.

  And maybe with time, there’d be a way I could make it work. I was all kinds of fucked up inside, and I still didn’t think she realized the extent of the damage. Maybe when she saw it—truly saw how many scars I had—she’d decide she couldn’t handle it.

  But I couldn’t keep fighting this. Not when I had so many other demons to keep locked away. And not when Grace’s pull on me was so strong.

  26

  Asher

  After punishing my body at the gym for an hour or so, I went home to Gram’s. The smell of frybread hit me as soon as I opened the door, making my mouth water. As much as I wanted to get my own place—and I was getting closer—there were perks to living here. Particularly Gram’s cooking.

  “Hey, Gram.” I set my stuff down and went to the kitchen at the back of the house. Something savory, almost spicy, hit my nose when I got closer.

  “Hi, Bear.” She presided over an enormous stack of frybread and a cast iron skillet filled with simmering meat. “I hope you’re hungry. I felt like we needed Indian tacos.”

  “Starving. But that’s a lot of food, even for me. Who else is coming?”

  She flipped a piece of frybread to brown the other side. “I didn’t invite anyone, but you know how my cubs are. They can smell my frybread all the way across town. Now when they come barreling in here, I’ll have plenty.”

  “Smart.”

  “With experience comes wisdom. There’s a package for you. It’s on the table.”

  I took a seat and slid the rectangular box closer. The tape popped off easily and I pulled out a plastic food container with the lid on. It was turned upside down so the bowl portion was on top, and I tilted my head to look through the plastic. “Is that Jell-O? Who left this?”

  “I don’t know. It was on the porch when I came inside after feeding my peckers.”

  I snapped the seal on the lid and lifted the bowl. Sure enough, it was a lopsided dome-shaped glob of green Jell-O. And inside…

  “Oh my god. They put a shank in Jell-O.”

  I laughed, because what else could I do? First the file baked into the cake. Then someone had put one in the glove box of the truck. I’d ordered a pizza for me and Gram the other night and there had been a fake shank made from a toothbrush in the box. I had no idea how they’d pulled that one off. Now another one in bright green Jell-O.

  “Someone must think you’re going to need those someday. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Yeah, Gram,
I’m dealing drugs. Don’t go out to the shop. The less you know, the better.”

  She chuckled.

  I pushed the container away. “When I find out which one of them is doing this, I’m going to make them pay.”

  “Why do you assume it’s only one of them? Sometimes they still roam as a pack.”

  “Good point.”

  “All that aside, how was your day?”

  “It wasn’t bad, actually.”

  “How’s Grace?”

  I eyed her with suspicion. “How did you know I saw her today?”

  She took the piece of frybread out and set it on the wire rack to drain. “I didn’t.”

  “Then why did you ask about her?”

  “Why wouldn’t I ask about her?”

  I shook my head. “She’s fine. I’m taking her out tomorrow night.”

  She cast a glance at me over her shoulder, then turned off both burners and gave the meat a quick stir. “Are you, now?”

  “Yeah. I kind of lost a bet.”

  “Oh, I see. So she’s making you do it.”

  “No. Sort of. I saw her at the gym and she bet me she could make me tap out.” I stretched my arm and rolled my shoulder. “She basically schooled me.”

  Gram chuckled. “That’s our Mama Bear.”

  “I didn’t even know she’d learned to grapple. Some of her letters mentioned going to the gym, but I thought she meant working out to stay in shape.”

  She took the seat across from me. “Does it surprise you?”

  “A little bit, yeah. She was never interested in martial arts before.”

  “Trauma changes people. Makes them see things differently. You have to remember, she got hurt that night too.”

  I looked away. “I know. Believe me, I’ve never forgotten that.”

  “She’s very good at making sure she seems all right on the outside. It’s a skill you two have in common. But it can also be a weakness.”

  “You don’t think she’s okay on the inside?”

  She tilted her head. “Normally I don’t like to point out the obvious. If someone’s going to insist on being stubborn or thick-headed, far be it for me to intervene. Reality will smack into them eventually. But no, Bear, she’s not. Neither of you are okay on the inside.”

  I paused, letting that sink in. Feeling like a selfish asshole for not thinking about it before.

  “Gram, I don’t know if I can be with her. Because you’re right, I’m not okay on the inside.”

  “Of course you aren’t. Nobody expects you to be, least of all Grace.”

  “I know she doesn’t. But the life we were planning before doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not the same. I wish I was, but I’m not. I’ve got a lot of…” I trailed off, not quite sure how to explain. “I have a lot of bad stuff inside. I don’t want to take her down with me.”

  She nodded slowly. “The spirit of a protector is strong in you. Always has been. It’s up to you to figure out how to use it. It takes wisdom and good judgment to know who needs your protection, and to recognize what you’re meant to protect them from.”

  Before I could reply, the front door banged open. I could tell without looking that at least two, if not three, of my brothers had just arrived. I met Gram’s eyes and she winked.

  “See? Let’s eat.”

  The early June sun had dipped beneath the mountains, but the sky was still light. My brothers and I had made quick work of Gram’s dinner. They’d said they had no idea she was cooking. They’d all gotten off a shift at the same time and decided to come over. Gram had just smiled with a knowing look in her eyes, then told us not to break anything while we fought over who had to clean up after dinner, because she certainly wasn’t doing it.

  They’d gone home already, and I went out to check the truck’s oil. Grandad had always said his truck would run forever if you treated her right. I wasn’t sure about forever, but I wasn’t letting her die on my watch.

  I popped the hood and lifted the bar to hold it open. The faint sound of voices carried on the breeze. Jack was outside in front of their house talking to Elijah. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but even without seeing his face, I could tell Elijah wasn’t happy. His hood was down, but his arms were crossed and he dug his toe in the gravel.

  Jack was dressed in his uniform and he looked frustrated. Not quite angry—there was nothing aggressive in his posture. But he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. He said something else, waited, then got in his car and left.

  Elijah shuffled around toward the back of the house with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

  I hesitated, my hand still on the raised hood. He had parents—two of them now. I’d asked Grace if he ever said anything about being picked on. She’d said no and assured me she’d talk to her mom about it. This wasn’t any of my business. Wasn’t my responsibility.

  But still.

  I cut through the yard, veering for the back, and found Elijah sitting on a tree stump, his back to me.

  “Hey, Eli. What’s going on?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

  I didn’t really know how to talk to kids. Especially now. What was I supposed to say?

  Suddenly, I had a vague memory of my grandad working on his truck. I was eleven or twelve, and I’d gotten into trouble at school. Instead of punishing me, he’d brought me out to the shop to help. I’d handed him tools and helped him tighten bolts. All the while, he’d talked to me. Not like a grownup talking to a child. Like a person talking to another person. Patiently nudging me until I finally told him what had happened.

  “Have you ever worked on a car?” I asked.

  He looked back again, a little groove forming between his eyebrows. “No. Why?”

  “I was working on my truck and could use another set of hands.”

  “I just said I don’t know how.”

  “That’s okay. I can show you.”

  He watched me and the suspicion in his gaze hit me square in the chest. This kid did not trust me. Which was fine, he barely knew me. But I had a very strong feeling that he didn’t trust anybody.

  I nodded toward the shop, then turned around and started walking. If he followed, he followed. If not, at least I’d tried.

  I heard his footsteps behind me.

  We got to the shop and I rooted around for a stool. I brought it, and a rag, around to the front of the truck and motioned for him to climb up.

  “Pull on that, right there. It’s the dipstick. It’s how you check the oil.” I held the rag while he pulled it out. “Now we need to wipe this off and put it in again to make sure it’s accurate. Stuff moves around in there when you drive, so you can’t tell the actual level of oil on the first try.”

  “Wipe it on that?”

  “Yep.”

  He slid the dipstick along the rag, then put it back in. “Now?”

  “Yep, go for it.”

  He pulled it out again.

  “See that mark? You want to make sure the oil is above that. This is looking good. Looks clean enough, too. Dirty oil isn’t good either.”

  He nodded and replaced the dipstick. “Is that it?”

  “That’s all there is to checking the oil, yeah. But the truck’s been making a weird noise. I need to poke around in here and see if I can figure out why.”

  I wasn’t exactly making that up. I’d only come out here to check the oil, but this truck always made weird noises.

  Made me wonder how often Grandad had worked on it because he needed to, versus as an excuse to get one of us boys to talk.

  I went back into the shop and grabbed a few wrenches. At the very least, I could loosen and tighten a few things. Let Elijah do the same.

  “I guess Jack doesn’t need to work on his car at home.” I handed him the tools.

  “No.”

  “Most people probably don’t these days.” I gestured for one of the wrenches and he passed it to me.

  I waited, resisting the urge to fill the silence
and ramble at him.

  Finally, he spoke. “He’s let me turn on the siren before.”

  “Yeah? Pretty loud, huh?”

  “Really loud. He said you get used to it.”

  “Does having Jack around make you think about being a cop someday?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Here, can you tighten this for me?” I pointed to a bolt and watched while he leaned in to tighten it. “I remember when you wanted to be a firefighter.”

  He stiffened, pausing for a moment, then twisted the bolt one more turn. “Yeah.”

  I held my hand out for the wrench and checked the tightness. “Nice job. This is perfect.”

  Except for my handful of quiet instructions, we worked in silence for a while. Checked the distributor cap. Tinkered with the carburetor. We did find a bolt that seemed a little loose. After a while, I took the tools and gave him another rag so he could wipe off his hands.

  “Did you know there’s a secret fridge out here?”

  “No.”

  “Yep. My grandad put it there. He always said Gram didn’t know about it, but I think she probably did.”

  “She knows everything.”

  “You know what, I think you’re right.”

  “What did he keep in it? Beer?”

  I chuckled. “Nope. Same thing my brothers and I keep in it now. Cherry Coke.”

  “Cherry?”

  “Yeah, it was his favorite. Gram always said soda rots your teeth. Which, to be fair, it does. So he kept his stash out here. Once in a while he’d let us have one. There should be some in there. Want one?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  I went into the shop and grabbed two cans of Cherry Coke while he jumped off the stool. He sat on an old railroad tie and I found a log round that would work as a seat. His soda popped and fizzed when he cracked the can open.

  “So are you glad school’s almost out?”