“What was she like that day?” I ask, skipping to the part where he must have sat down.
Remaining silent, Conor takes my hand and studies my face. He doesn’t trust me with the truth.
“She made me feel seen,” he finally says. “And I thought about how our father didn’t want her, but she still smiled a lot. Aja’s good at focusing on what she has and not what she lacks. Made me wonder if I could do the same thing.”
“But it’s not that easy to reprogram yourself.”
Conor blinks a few times and then shakes his head. “I have a festering wound inside me. It’s always been there. I first remember feeling it when I was maybe five. My mom hid in the closet with me, crying and raging. I felt such fear at what was going to happen to us. But, of course, nothing did.”
“And you learned to hide your wound.”
“Because I didn’t think people cared,” he says, struggling to conceal a lifetime’s worth of resentment. “I see now how I could have asked for help. But I was a kid, and people acted as if Barbie’s crazy bullshit was just annoying. For a long time, I didn’t know if her mood swings were normal. The Parrish family is strong-willed regarding ignoring painful realities.”
Conor’s mournful sigh makes sexing up his body feel like a betrayal. He doesn’t need me to fuck him. Conor wishes to be acknowledged. Not the surface stuff everyone applauds. That scared little boy still lives inside him, hiding behind the cool-guy exterior the older version of him created.
“Many people let their festering wounds infect every part of them,” I say, resting his hand on my knee and holding his gaze. “You found a way to control the pain. If that means I can’t read your face, I’ll have to accept what you’re able to offer.”
“Just like that?”
“Fuck no,” I say, and he smiles at my grumpy tone. “I need you to show me everything. But I’m also accustomed to sacrificing for the people I care about. And you’re special to me.”
“I was worried you would ruin the beauty of your words by glancing at my dick while you spoke. I’m proud of you for keeping your eyes on my face.”
Grinning at his attempt to distract from troublesome feelings, I crawl closer and kiss his pout.
“I see you,” I whisper against his lips before pulling away. “Today, I noticed how you wanted answers from me, yet you never pushed too hard. Or how you didn’t dominate me even though you could. You were like a surfer riding the waves of my moods. I saw how you maneuver other people, too. You seem relaxed, but you’re always working shit out up here,” I say and lean forward to kiss his forehead. “I see you, Conor Jessup.”
His chilly gaze thaws with the warmth he hid from me earlier. I feel how much Conor wants to fuck again. But he’s more than horny. Conor needs to erase every barrier between us, to own me completely so I’ll never stop seeing the real him.
CONOR
Sleeping over at Monroe’s apartment is the most comfortable night of my life. I never worry about the club meeting tomorrow or how my mom texts twenty times to tell me that she thinks someone’s in the yard. Rather than playing that game, I message Bronco and ask for him to check on her. Then, I turn off my phone and hang out with my honey.
We’re up until a late hour. Amity joins our party after her shift. We eat popcorn while sharing a joint. “Gremlins” plays on the TV with the sound off while we listen to Guns N’ Roses. I sit on one end of the couch with Monroe in the middle and Amity on the other side. We’re so chill that I feel as if we’ve been doing this shit for years.
Eventually, a stoned Monroe stands up and announces her pussy is painfully empty.
“You need cock!” Amity declares and then gestures at me. “Go fix that.”
As Monroe wiggles her hips in a goofy attempt to seduce me, I stumble after her and announce, “My cock to the rescue!”
My honey and I suffer through the clumsiest sex possible yet manage to get off. Monroe giggles the entire time, calls me “Connie,” and then falls asleep on her stomach backward on the bed.
“Best first date ever,” I tell myself as I doze off.
The next morning, Monroe can’t wake up properly and mumbles everything. I have to get really close to her mouth to hear anything she says. Finally, she licks my ear, and I give up on understanding her. She does show me the message from Jena, explaining how her work schedule was changed. Based on her half-asleep frown, Monroe isn’t happy with losing her shifts at Rooster’s.
Leaving her to wake up, I drop by my house to change clothes and check on Barbie, who is perfectly fine as she prepares to go jogging.
“You didn’t need to send Bronco, snitch,” she growls and darts out the front door.
I smile at how her plan didn’t work. Of course, if I hadn’t sent Bronco, she might have been genuinely losing her shit. Pills or no pills, ignoring her mood swings isn’t an option.
Finally, I walk next door to Bronco’s house. His young, blonde wife, Lana, answers the door with their now two-year-old surprise baby, Carina, peeking from behind her mom’s leg. I smile at my youngest cousin, who gives me the same look as her father does when he isn’t sure if I’m fucking with him.
“They’re downstairs,” Lana says, shutting the door. “How’s Monroe?”
“Fine. How is the family?”
“You just saw us.”
“Yes, but they grow so fast,” I say, leaning down to look at blonde, brown-eyed Carina. “Are you being sweet to your mama?”
“No.”
“She says no to everything.”
“Big shock,” I say, standing straight. “Parrish women are notoriously bitchy.”
As Lana gives me a little smile, I recall how closed off she seemed when she first arrived in Elko. We weren’t her people, and this town wasn’t her safe place. Now, Lana’s settled into the community, and her family of six feels comfortable.
After my cousin offers me a cup of coffee she’s pretend-drinking, I politely decline and head downstairs to the large basement. I find Bronco, Lowell, and Anders dressed identically in black T-shirts, blue jeans, and black boots. I’m glad I changed into a gray top, or else I’d be a member of their boy band.
“What’s the deal with Monroe’s work schedule?” I ask rather than waiting for them to set the tone.
“She isn’t a bunny, so she can’t work bunny hours,” Bronco says as if he thought this out himself and wasn’t bullied by Lowell—or more likely—Topanga. “She’ll still get paid the same.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We also want to move her into one of the Overlook’s empty apartments,” Bronco continues, again parroting whatever Topanga told him. “Until she’s willing to live in the Woodlands.”
Thinking of Monroe in his house gives Lowell a constipated look.
“Monroe likes living at the Overlook and working at Rooster’s,” I reply as I rest my back against the wall. “Why change anything?”
“Is this thing with you serious?” Anders asks, and I know for a fucking fact that was his line to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if Topanga gave these men scripts to follow. “Will you soon want to live in a house and have a honey in your house?”
I can’t help chuckling at his awkward line reading. The giant blond bear—as his hippie honey likes to call him—just smiles and shrugs.
“We’ve been together for less than forty-eight hours. So, of course, I feel safe claiming her as my forever woman.”
“Smartass,” Bronco says and tries not to smile at Lowell’s irritation. “But seriously, there’s some confusion on how to handle this situation.”
“Why does it need to be handled? Nobody was fucking Monroe before the DNA test. I’m the only one fucking her now. Why are we fixing what isn’t broken?”
“Amity brings guys back to that apartment,” Lowell mutters.
“So?”
“So, Monroe is there.”
“And you’re worried if she hears the humping that she’ll become confused and come to you for the sex talk?”
&
nbsp; Bronco laughs first. As usual, Anders follows the boss’s lead. Lowell just glowers.
“Would you want your daughter at that place?” he asks me.
“Wait, are we prudes now? Is that what this is? The club built an upscale apartment building with spacious units for the sweet thangs willing to suck our dicks on demand. Yet, now you’re talking about the Overlook as if it’s a low-rent whorehouse.”
“Would you want your daughter there?” Lowell asks Bronco, who shakes his head. “How about you?” Anders also says no. “Then, she needs to move.”
“She is the same person she was before you learned that she was your daughter.”
“Topanga got razzed about this from certain people,” Bronco explains and gives a shrug. “She doesn’t want Lowell’s daughter living at the Overlook. Having Monroe in a guest apartment is our compromise.”
“I’ll tell you what I told Monroe. Chill the fuck out. It’s been two days. Why expect anything big to change right off the bat?”
“Topanga wants to go miniature golfing,” Lowell mumbles, and Bronco shoots an amused grin at Anders. “Like a double date with you and Monroe. She said it’ll be fun.”
“How about we do all that shit in a month?” I suggest while still lounging against the wall. “The move, the party, the golf. Just wait a few weeks for everyone to get used to the changes. Then, we’ll start suffering through crap.”
“Party can’t be changed,” Bronco says. “Don’t start whining, either. She’s Lowell’s daughter and your honey.”
“Lowell doesn’t know her, and I’ve dated her for two days. Maybe we can wait until things are more set,” I mutter, playing cold despite me knowing Monroe is the only woman I’ll ever love.
Bronco instantly says, “No.”
“Is this because my mom bullied you?”
Glaring at me, Bronco warns, “Don’t start.”
“Why are you telling me all this shit anyway?”
“You’re the envoy between Monroe and our faction.”
“Makes sense. Except you could ask Jena to play go-between, and she’d give you less shit.”
“True, but Jena doesn’t know the answers to the next part.”
“I’m listening.”
“What’s Monroe running from? Where’s her mom? No one remembers much about Needy. Where has Monroe been for over two decades? You know, the basics.”
I share what I know about Monroe’s past. A minute later, the three men frown at me.
“That’s it?” Bronco mutters.
“We’ve been together for two days. Before Topanga’s big show at Rooster’s, I barely spoke to Monroe.”
“Then, why call dibs on her?” Lowell asks.
“So, no one else could bang her before I got a chance to charm her into submission.”
“And your plan to charm her was to never speak?”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
Bronco rolls his eyes while Lowell’s constipation-frown hits epic levels. Through it all, Anders likely daydreams about getting out of this room.
“Well, if you don’t learn her story, I’ll have to find out the details through other people,” Bronco warns. “What would you prefer?”
“Her story is obvious. Needy couldn’t afford to live on her own. She moved to North Dakota. Monroe’s uncle is a big shit in his small part of the world. They lived there for long enough to pick up some of that Canadian-lite accent. Then, her mom got married off mysteriously. Now, her uncle wants to do the same with Monroe.”
“We need to track down Needy,” Lowell says.
“Let’s keep the background searches to a minimum,” I mutter, feeling the tension rise up my back. “We don’t want to do anything to draw her uncle’s attention to Elko. Who knows what kind of contacts or power he has?”
“Monroe knows,” Lowell says, crossing his arms. “Ask her who he is, and we’ll check him out instead of investigating her and Needy.”
“Fine, but if she’s spooked, she could run.”
“Run where?”
“Might chance contacting her mother. She’s never mentioned any friends or other family.”
“Yeah, but you’ve only known her forty-eight hours,” Bronco says, throwing my words back at me. “You don’t really know anything more than we do. We have no reason to doubt what she’s shared. After all, she was right about her father, but she’s a mystery living in our town.”
“She’s been a mystery for weeks.”
“True, but I don’t know the life story of the bunnies. Yet, if any of them had an issue that might affect the club, I’d want to know.”
I consider asking how Bronco would know if they had an issue since he didn’t know anything about them in the first place. Instead, I accept these men are spinning their wheels as pressure bears down.
That’s how shit rolls in the Woodlands. When something unexpected happens, everyone immediately overreacts to it. Two years ago, Anders brought a hippie chick he stole from a nearby cult to the community, and the club’s old ladies lost their fucking minds. They didn’t trust Pixie. What if she was a spy? They wanted to put Pixie on display to calm their fears. Except a party with her as the special guest only agitated the women more. Eventually, she got into a fight with my bitch cousin and my bitchier cousin-in-law.
Now, Monroe is the big change. The community will insist on freaking out about her before they’ll ever view her as part of our big happy family.
MONROE
I’ve never been a girly girl. When I played dolls as a kid, I had them fighting crime and beating up bad guys. As a teenager, I only wore enough makeup to hide any embarrassing blemishes. Zella wanted to be a runway model while I was happy to play her bodyguard. Uncle Clive even paid me twenty a week to make sure no one messed with his angel at school. He knew she was a dipshit with a big mouth and the other girls wanted to pound on her. Zella wasn’t a bad person, but she learned early on how she was special, even if she was stuck in Nowhere, North Dakota.
When I became a bunny, Jena took me to a salon to get glammed up. The stylist managed to make my hair shiny, which wasn’t easy after I fried it with bleach. My nails were painted a bright red, and any stray eyebrow hairs were ripped free.
I was taught how to emphasize my big lips and “exotic” eyes. That last part made me laugh. My family comes from the mud. We’re genetic garbage. But Needy said her mom might have cheated with a good-looking man in town. He liked slumming it, apparently. His positive genes overcame the Hobbs family’s negative ones enough to give Immee and Needy a step up in life. I got even luckier with a handsome dad. If Conor and I have a kid, he’ll be fucking gorgeous, no doubt.
Today, I visit the salon with Amity, Jena, Roni, and Lisa Leigh. They’re here to refresh themselves. I joined them because I don’t like sitting alone in the apartment, and Conor won’t be available until this afternoon.
My platinum blonde hair’s dark roots announce the passing of time. “I’m thinking of dying my hair back to brown,” I say to the brunette Amity on my right and the blonde Roni to my left. “I had this fantasy that I’d look like a sex bomb, but I feel like a stranger when I look in the mirror.”
“What about Conor?” Lisa Leigh asks from nearby where she gets her eyebrows threaded.
“He knows I have brown hair.”
“But he probably likes it blonde better,” Jena says.
“But what about what I like?”
Amity and Roni glance at Jena, waiting for her response. The Overlook’s den mother doesn’t answer. She no longer knows how to treat me. I was the newest bunny, needing her guidance and occasional nagging. Now, I’m blood to the second most important man in the Executioners. Can she still put me in my place when I mouth off?
“The blonde hair helped me hide,” I explain when Jena keeps her lips zipped, “but I’ll need to either fix my roots or go back to brown.”
The girls still think I’m hiding from an ex-boyfriend. That was the lie I thought would make sense to them.
&nbs
p; “Hiding isn’t necessary now, is it?” Amity asks, standing behind me as she runs her manicured fingernails through my hair.
“Maybe not, but keeping a low profile can’t hurt.”
“If that asshole shows up here,” Lisa Leigh says, “it’ll be the last thing he does.”
I smile at the thought of the Executioners acting as a protective wall. Unfortunately, I’m too insecure about my new reality to believe Lowell and his tatted pals won’t hand me over to Clive if it fixes a problem. Sure, Conor won’t, but he’s just one guy, and younger than most other members.
While he might be president one day, I can’t see it. Conor never once mentioned taking over. And we babbled about a lot of random shit last night. I admitted I was afraid of balloons, and I’ve only told two other people this embarrassing fact about myself. Yet, during all our unfiltered babbling, Conor never mentioned the club’s future or his place in it.
The girls clearly think I should ask his opinion about my hair before I make a move. As bunnies, their images don’t belong to themselves. They can’t decide to go natural in the bikini region. Or get a short haircut. They need to ask permission from Jena. I don’t know who she asked when she was a bunny.
I’m unclear if I need to ask permission. I’m not a bunny, but that doesn’t make me a Woodlands honey, either. I don’t know my place. Not so different from how things worked back in Minton. I was powerful through my connection to Uncle Clive. Yet, I felt stuck on the outside. Since his blood didn’t run through my veins, I never quite fit anywhere.
Sometimes, I sensed Clive wished I was his kid. Zella never showed any interest in stuff he cared about, and his brain refused to accept how he needed to care about her shit. I was into sports and would wrestle around with my cousins, Brian Clive and David Clive. He could trust me to do errands, yet Zella always got distracted. Yeah, I was the one that Uncle Clive wanted to keep around. Zella was the daughter he planned to marry off to a fat cat with connections. She would have a comfy life, and he would have more power.
Frost (EEMC) Page 11
