Spring Romance

by Bailey, Tessa

  The beer was going right to my head, thank fuck, and I nodded to Leo. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Dash.” A delicate hand slid up my thigh and I spun away from Leo to see the blond who’d been in the corner. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you around for a couple weeks.”

  “It’s good.” I dropped a hand over hers before it could reach my zipper. “You?”

  The blond didn’t get a chance to answer.

  A hand fisted the back of my T-shirt, pulling it tight across my neck. Before I could turn and see who it was, that hand gave a hard yank and I flew backward off the stool. If not for Leo’s quick reflexes, I’d be sprawled on my ass on the dirty bar floor.

  I found my balance, righting myself, and stood to face the person who was about to get his ass kicked. But the face I met was not one I’d be punching. “Bryce, what—”

  “Goddamn you.” Her hands slammed into my chest, shoving me back against the stool.

  Leo kept his grip on my arm so I wouldn’t fall. Or maybe he’d thought I’d go after her.

  I wasn’t a fan of being pushed around, but damn, I was glad to see her. Bryce’s face was full of rage, her cheeks red and eyes blazing. She was a furious knockout.

  Surging forward, I ignored the anger rolling off her in waves and wrapped my arms around her, crushing her to my chest.

  “Get your damn hands off me.” She pushed and squirmed, trying to break free.

  But I held her tighter, burying my nose in her hair. It smelled like sugar, overpowering the stale beer on the floor and secondhand smoke wafting in from the front door.

  “Dash,” she snapped, the sound muffled in my chest. “Let me go, you asshole.”

  “Miss me?” I chuckled. The smile on my face hurt from not using it lately. “I gotta say, babe, I really like that you’re jealous.”

  “Jealous?” She froze in my arms. “You think I care about the blond? Fuck her brains out for all I care.”

  “Huh?” I let her go. “Fuck her brains out?”

  I’d given her just enough space for her to wind up and slap me across the face. Smack.

  What the fuck was happening right now?

  “You’re a lying bastard,” she seethed. “You might have fooled me twice but it will never happen again. I’m not playing your game anymore. No matter what it takes, I’m going to do everything in my power to bring you all to your knees.” With that, she spun and stormed out of the bar.

  I blinked twice, dazed as the eyes around the room all landed on me. Bringing a hand up, I rubbed at the cheek she’d likely turned red. Then I looked over my shoulder at Leo. “Did that just happen?”

  “Damn.” He was staring at the door, a huge grin spread over his face. “She’s a firecracker, that one. If you don’t marry her, I will.”

  “Go to hell.” I flipped him off, then bolted for the door. “Bryce!”

  The parking lot was packed. There were cars and bikes everywhere. And no sign of Bryce, until the flash of headlights caught my eye in the distance.

  I took off, sprinting for the one and only exit from the lot. It wasn’t easy after the beer, but I pushed my legs hard, my boots pounding on the cracked asphalt. I made it just in time to stand in the middle of the road as Bryce’s Audi came skidding to a halt inches from my knees.

  She rolled down her window. “Move.”

  “No.” I planted both hands on the hood. “What was that about?”

  “Seriously? Don’t play dumb.”

  “Help me out here, babe. I’m drunk. You came in there and I was just so happy to see you. Then you tossed out a bunch of shit that made my head spin. I just did a dead sprint and I’m pretty sure my heart might explode. If I collapse, don’t run me over.”

  “This isn’t a joke!” she screamed. Her frustration filled the night air. When she swiped at a tear, my heart clenched. “You lied to me. Again. And I fucking fell for it.”

  My stomach knotted. Something bad had happened. Something serious. And I hadn’t a clue what it could be other than the yearbook picture. But that wasn’t a big enough deal for this reaction, was it?

  “Come out and talk to me.” I held up my hands, retreating from the car. “Please.”

  She kept her hands on the wheel, her eyes drifting to her rearview mirror. Ten seconds passed and I was certain she was debating running me over. But finally, she dropped her chin and put the car in park.

  She stepped out, wearing a pair of tight jeans and heels. Her gray blouse was wrinkled, like she’d slept in it or been wearing it since dawn.

  I stayed back as she leaned on the car, crossing her arms. “Why did you lie?”

  “I didn’t lie to you.” Unless. Shit. The yearbook photo. Had Bryce figured out that Mom and Amina had been best friends?

  “There’s another one right there.” She rolled her eyes. “Drop the act.”

  “Woman, what are you on?”

  “She looks like you. It took me a minute to figure it out, but you have the same hair and the same nose.”

  “Who?” How many drinks had Paul given me? Because she wasn’t making any sense. Was she talking about Mom? I didn’t have Mom’s hair. I had Dad’s. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Your sister.”

  My sister? “I don’t have a sister.”

  “This is a waste of time.” She spun away from the car, going for the handle. “All I’m going to get are more lies.”

  With a burst of speed, I ran to her side, trapping her against the car before she could open the door. Any buzz I’d had inside was gone. The truth in her voice sobered me right up.

  What the hell had she found?

  “I don’t have a sister,” I repeated.

  She twisted and I let her have enough room to turn. Her face was hard, pure stone one second. Then the anger disappeared. It fell away as her eyes got wide and a hand came up to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You didn’t know.”

  “Know what?” I demanded. “What did you do?”

  She gulped. “I went to see Amina’s daughter in Denver. I flew out this morning and just got back. I talked to her for hours. About her mom and her childhood. And . . .”

  “Keep going,” I growled when she paused.

  “I asked about her father, but she didn’t know anything about him. All Amina had told her was that he was called Prez. I think . . . I’m fairly certain that Draven is her father. She’s your sister.”

  No. I staggered away, shaking my head. “No. It’s not possible.”

  “Maybe that was why Amina came here to meet with Draven. To discuss their daughter. It makes sense.”

  “No way. If I had a sister, I’d know.” I balled my hands into fists, pacing in front of her. Could I have a sister? Dad had been a different man after Mom had died. Maybe he’d gotten Amina knocked up sometime after the funeral.

  “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  All the air escaped my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. Dropping my hands to my knees, I struggled to stay off the ground. Mom had died when I was twelve. I’d been a middle-school kid riding home in my older brother’s car to find my mother dead. To find her blood soaking the front sidewalk next to a plastic tray of yellow flowers.

  If this sister was twenty-six, then she was nine years younger than me. Three years old when my mother had been ripped away from us. Three.

  “No. Impossible.” Mom and Dad were hopelessly in love. Always. I couldn’t remember a time that they’d fought. I couldn’t remember a night when Dad had slept on the couch because he’d pissed her off.

  “Dash, she could—”

  “No!” I roared. “Dad wouldn’t have cheated on Mom. It’s. Fucking. Impossible.”

  Bryce kept her mouth shut, but there was judgment in her eyes. She was sure Dad was a murdering cheat. And I’d defend him to the end.

  “Get in the car.” I walked around the front of her car, ripping the passenger door open. When Bryce didn’t move, I bellowed across the roof, “Get in the car!”


  Her body jerked into action. She spun around, getting in and strapping on her seat belt. I climbed in too, not bothering with a belt.

  “Drive.”

  She nodded, putting the car in gear. But before she let off the brake, she looked at me. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

  “There’s nothing to know.” I stared out the window, my hands gripping my thighs. Every ounce of my willpower went to not putting my fist through the glass.

  Bryce’s hand stretched across the console. “Dash—”

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  Her hand snapped back to the wheel.

  I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want the smooth heat of her skin on mine. I didn’t want to believe a word that had come out of her mouth.

  She was wrong. She was dead wrong. And I’d prove it to her. Tonight.

  “Drive,” I ordered again.

  “Where?”

  “Right.”

  Bryce silently followed my one-word directions through town until we turned onto the quiet street of my childhood. I pointed to the curb in front of Dad’s house and she pulled over. Without a word, we got out of the car and she trailed behind me to the side door.

  Five punishing knocks and a light flipped on inside.

  Dad made his way to the door to unlock it. “Dash?”

  I pushed past him inside, marching into the kitchen.

  Mom’s kitchen.

  The one where she’d cooked us meals every day. Where she’d packed our lunches into aluminum boxes with cartoons on the front and filled our thermoses with chocolate milk. Where she’d kissed Dad every evening and asked him about his day.

  Impossible. Dad had loved Mom with every ounce of his being. He’d never cheat on her. Bryce was wrong and I wanted her to stand witness, to hear the truth in his voice when he denied having a daughter.

  Dad came into the kitchen, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants.

  Bryce slipped in behind him, choosing to stand against the refrigerator. If she was scared, she didn’t show it. If she was doubting herself, she didn’t show that either.

  Fuck her. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that I’d grown up with two people who loved one another more than life. That Dad had almost died of a broken heart when Mom had been killed.

  “What’s going on?” Dad asked.

  “I want the truth.” My chest heaved and I fought to keep my voice steady. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

  He stood motionless. Calm. “The truth about what, son?”

  “Bryce went to see Amina’s daughter.”

  Dad’s eyes closed and his chin dropped.

  No.

  Dad always hung his head whenever he disappointed his sons.

  “It’s true then? She’s your daughter?” A slight nod and I flew across the room, my fist colliding with his cheek. A crack filled the kitchen and Bryce let out a small scream as she jumped. “You’re dead to me.”

  Without another word, I marched out of the room. The walls were closing in on me. I flew through the mudroom and burst outside, gasping for breath in the night air.

  A hand, gentle and light, landed on my spine. “I’m sorry.”

  “She loved him. And he . . .” My throat closed on the words. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t believe Dad had cheated on Mom.

  My mother had put up with so much shit from him. And it had cost her her life. Meanwhile, the man I’d loved, the man I’d looked up to, had gotten her best friend from high school pregnant.

  Mom and Amina’s fallout made sense now. They hadn’t drifted apart. Did Mom know? Or had Dad kept Amina and his daughter from all of us?

  “Fuck.” I stood and walked to Bryce’s car, her footsteps echoing behind.

  Inside her car, she didn’t utter a word as she drove away.

  I dropped my head, shoving my hands in my hair. “I have to tell Nick.”

  After years, my brother and Dad finally had a decent relationship. One phone call and I’d destroy it all over again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Bryce chanted over the steering wheel. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead. “I thought you knew. I thought you were lying to me and covering up for your dad. I would have handled it differently. I should have handled it differently.”

  “You’re not the one who cheated on his wife and just lost the respect of his son.”

  Her shoulders fell. “I’m still sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” My hand drifted to her shoulder and she tensed. Shit. Was she scared of me? I was angry, but not at her. “Sorry. For earlier.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Bryce relaxed. “I always figured you had a temper. And I’m a big girl. I can handle a man yelling at me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

  “I won’t.” I didn’t want Bryce to ever fear me. I watched the road as she drove toward The Betsy, but when we got there, she didn’t slow. She blew right past the bar. “Where are we going?”

  Bryce gave me a small smile as she turned into the parking lot of Stockyard’s, a bar two blocks down from The Betsy known for its greasy food. “Are you hungry? I’m starving. All I had for lunch were cookies.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bryce

  “I like it here.” Dash looked around the dim bar, holding a huge cheeseburger in his hands. “I haven’t been here in ages. It’s so much quieter than The Betsy. Food’s damn good too.”

  “So good.” I took another enormous bite of my burger and moaned.

  My parents loved Stockyard’s. It was more their speed than a seedy ruckus bar like The Betsy. It catered to the low-key crowd in Clifton Forge with its subtle music and an abundance of tables for people to sit and visit. It was no surprise that, at nearly midnight, the place was mostly empty.

  I figured the only reason they stayed open late was because it was the only place in town to serve food this late. They’d probably get a rush from The Betsy soon, drunks looking for a heavy meal to combat the alcohol. And then, of course, they were open to serve the poker players at the table along the back. Seven men sat hunched over their chips as a young redhead with a pretty smile dealt their cards.

  Dash’s back was to them, but every ten minutes, he’d glance over his shoulder, throwing a glare across the distance of the room.

  “Not a fan of poker?” I asked after another one of his scowls.

  “The one in the gray hoodie is Presley’s fiancé, Jeremiah.” He frowned. “She’s probably sittin’ at home alone while he’s here losing money and getting loaded. Guy’s a tool but she puts up with his shit.”

  “And I’m guessing she doesn’t like it when you express that opinion.”

  “Not much.” He shook his head. “We’ve all tried to talk to her but it always ends in a fight. So now we keep quiet. At least, we will until they actually decide to get married. Then we’ll all gang up on her.”

  “An intervention?” I laughed. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

  From my brief encounter with Presley at the garage, I imagined she was the type who’d make up her own mind. Telling her no would probably work about as well as it did on me.

  Dash and I didn’t speak as we finished our meals. Since we’d come in and ordered, neither of us had spoken about what had happened at Draven’s house. But with every bite swallowed, it was coming. What had happened couldn’t be ignored forever.

  With rumpled and grease-stained napkins tossed over the few remaining french fries on our plates, Dash’s gaze met mine. “So . . .”

  “So. Want to talk about it?”

  He ran a hand over the stubble of his jaw. “Can’t believe he’d do that to Mom. She was amazing. This carefree, loving woman. She didn’t deserve a cheating husband. God, I hope she never knew. That she died thinking he was faithful.”

  “Can I ask how she died?”

  “She was killed outside the house.” He leaned his elbows on the table, speaking i
n a low voice full of pain. “We found her, me and Nick.”

  My hand came to my sternum. It was unimaginable. Heartbreaking. I wanted to hold Dash, but for now, I settled for a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Nick was sixteen and had a car. I begged him to give me a ride home from school that day so I didn’t have to ride the bus. He was pissed because there was this girl he was chasing and she wanted him to drive her around. But he took me home instead. He always put me first, our family first. Even as a teenager. We got home and saw Mom lying on her side on the sidewalk. She’d been gardening, wearing the gloves I bought her for Mother’s Day.”

  I put my hand over Dash’s, holding tight.

  He turned his over, threading his fingers with mine. “There was another club in Montana who’d been causing the Gypsies some trouble. They were called the Travelers. Dad and the club had plenty of petty beefs with them over the years, but it had been nothing too serious. Nothing dangerous. Then Dad and the club got aggressive about expanding. They took on more drug routes to up the club’s income, even poached some from other clubs. The Travelers didn’t like losing and made some threats. Dad dismissed them, not taking them seriously. Until they took it further.”

  “They came after your mom.”

  He nodded. “Drove up to our home. Shot her in the back of the head while she was planting yellow flowers. You couldn’t even recognize her face. The bullet just tore through her.”

  My hand tightened around his and I closed my eyes. The cheeseburger wasn’t sitting well, not when I imagined myself in Dash’s shoes. Finding your mother’s dead body was a horror no child should have to see.

  “Dash, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” He stayed quiet for a few minutes, his eyes on the table. Even when the bartender came by to take our plates and refill our waters, he didn’t move. He just held my hand until it was the two of us alone. “Dad and the Gypsies killed all of their members. Every last one.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but I didn’t have the words. It was hard to fathom that kind of murder and violence. Hard to see Dash in that life. And at the same time, I was glad he, Nick and even Draven, had gotten their vengeance. It wasn’t black and white, this world he’d pulled me into. There wasn’t a clear-cut line between right and wrong, not like I’d believed before.