Straight Up (Twisted Fox Book 3)

by Charity Ferrell

  I nod. “Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

  “You’re the best.” She blows me a kiss before scurrying away at the same time Cassidy comes into view.

  “Gotta say, babe”—I shake my head in exaggerated disappointment—“you suck as a movie-watching partner.”

  My thoughts retrace to last night and how she made it seem less lonely, made me feel as if I had someone, a friend other than my brother. Someone I can call anytime, who I can ask to hang out, and who enjoys my company as much as I enjoy theirs. I’m damn grateful for this woman squeezing her way into my life.

  She twists her ponytail around three fingers and laughs. “Look, a girl can be tired after picking up trash all morning. You didn’t catch me at my movie-watching peak.”

  “And you say I’m old. You didn’t even make it past midnight.”

  “Had you been there with me, I would’ve stayed awake all night.”

  I confine a laugh into a snort.

  “Will you be in attendance at your brother’s birthday party, old man?”

  I nod. “Yep. You?”

  “Georgia invited me, so I’m considering it.” She grins. “It’ll be a good time to show you how great my night-owl movie-watching skills are.”

  “My sidekick had better show up.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Can’t leave me hanging as the odd one out.”

  “I’ll be there. I’m Batman. You’re Robin. Sidekicks forever.”

  “Whoa, whoa. I’m Batman. You’re Robin.”

  I shake my head and snort. “I’m Batman.”

  She throws her arm out, signaling to her body. “Green isn’t my color. It washes me out. Therefore, I can’t be Robin.”

  “Too bad. You’re my sidekick.”

  She rolls her eyes. “First, you’re my sidekick. Second, here soon, I’ll be moving my way up to the love of your life.”

  I cover my face to conceal a snort. “Swear to God, you and your craziness will be the death of me.”

  “Craziness? You haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait until you get me in the bedroom.”

  The glass in my hand slips through my fingers and shatters on the floor. The thought of having Cassidy, of kissing Cassidy, of sliding into her warmth, into a pussy that’d probably be the best I’ve ever had, sends my heart into overdrive.

  I am so screwed with this woman.

  No matter how much time has passed, a grim cloud will always be over my head when I visit the lake. What was once an enjoyable hangout for me is now nothing but a pitiful reminder of who I lost.

  “Don’t worry about hiding,” Lola says, walking into the cabin with Silas trailing her. “The surprise is ruined. There will be no shocking gasps from Archer when he walks in.”

  Grace sighs, her hand covering her mouth. “What?”

  “We parked down the street for this,” Finn adds. “And it’s fucking chilly outside.”

  Silas scoffs, “Dumbass. Did you honestly think Archer would hang out in the car, blindfolded, for hours? A hundo he maybe lasted ten minutes before he tore the damn thing off.”

  Lola shakes her head in disapproval. “What a pain in the ass.”

  Silas drapes his tattooed arm over her shoulders. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same.”

  “Wrong. I enjoy being blindfolded.” Tilting her head back, she peers up at Silas with a teasing smile. “I’d keep it on all night.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” He drags her against his chest and wrinkles his hand through her midnight-black strands before she smacks his hand away and smooths down her hair.

  Silas and Lola are best friends.

  Or so they say.

  Something I’ve observed about my brother’s circle is, people are in love with each other.

  Archer and Georgia are obviously now dating.

  Silas and Lola act like an old couple.

  Finn acts as if he’s Grace’s bodyguard, her protector, and keeps a constant eye on her. While she stares at him with stars in her eyes.

  Way more than friendship between them.

  Briefly, I consider their viewpoint of Cassidy and me. They’ve made comments about us dating and being into each other.

  Speaking of Cassidy, she declined my offer for a ride here and rode with Lola and Silas instead. She mentioned something along the lines of finding new friends. Which I get. Working so much, she doesn’t get out much. Neither Grace nor Lola work at the bar, but they hang out at Twisted Fox like it’s their second job, and she spends time with them during her breaks.

  Everyone’s attention shifts to the front door when it flies open.

  Forgetting what Lola said, we yell, “Surprise!”

  False alarm.

  Instead of the birthday boy coming into view, it’s my mother and grandparents. I smile, appreciative that Georgia included them. My mom has gone through hell the past few years, and with my father gone, she’s lonely. When Archer and I were younger, we hardly spent time with our parents. Now, I check on my mother a few times a week, have dinner with her, watch movies—anything to get her mind off her loss.

  “Wrong person.” My mother’s brown eyes widen with concern about ruining the surprise. “Although I’m sure Archer won’t be upset about missing the surprise part.” She struts into the house, and her heels clack against the wood floor. A Prada bag hangs off her shoulder, and she’s wearing a white pantsuit.

  To a lake house.

  Josephine Callahan doesn’t do casual.

  Hell, I’m not sure she even owns a pair of jeans.

  Designer pantsuits and dresses are her fashion choice.

  Behind her are my grandparents, walking hand in hand.

  “Although I did enjoy a greeting like that.” My grandmother—barely wrinkled with the help of Botox—scrunches her face as she grins.

  The room erupts in laughter.

  Cassidy lifts on her tiptoes next to me and whispers, “Is that your mom?”

  I nod at the same time my mother reaches us. Cassidy retreats a step, allowing my mom room to wrap her arms around me in a hug and smack a kiss to my cheek.

  Before the incident, my mother wasn’t a hugger.

  Kissing cheeks was more of a formality than maternal.

  My father’s death changed her.

  Changed her outlook on life and she tapped into her inner self.

  Same shit with me.

  “Okay, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” Cassidy blurts out.

  My mother beams at the compliment, her pearly veneers showing.

  I hold in a chuckle and gesture to Cassidy. “Mom, this is Cassidy. Cassidy, this is my mother, Josephine.”

  “Oh, I like her. Are you two …?” She signals back and forth between us.

  “Not yet,” Cassidy answers before I can. “Your son is quite stubborn.”

  My mother offers me a nod of encouragement as Lola calls Cassidy over.

  Cassidy holds out her hand toward my mother. “It’s really nice meeting you. I can’t wait for us to shop for my wedding dress when the day comes.”

  My mother squeezes her hand once and then twice while grinning at her.

  Just like how those maternal instincts kicked in, my mother has started asking when I’ll settle down, when I’ll find a nice girl like Georgia, when I’ll stop wanting the bachelor lifestyle. I don’t live the bachelor lifestyle. I’m living the survival lifestyle—working my ass off, fighting my demons, and not wanting to punch the world in its face every time I think about how it’s fucked me.

  That isn’t me being a whiny bitch either. I’ll accept responsibility for what I’ve done and the choices I’ve made, but there are people in high places who hate me. And they brought me down.

  “Why haven’t you asked her out?” my mother rushes out as if she’s been holding on to it like a breath underwater. “She’s better suited for you than … others you’ve dated.”

  A fucking Kit Kat bar would be better suited for me than the women I’ve dated … well, was
involved with because dating is a heavy term. A term I’ve never used with a woman—nor have I had to with the type of women who found their way, sneaking into my bed.

  I scratch my cheek, averting my gaze to the opposite end of the room—to where Cassidy is talking to Lola and pouring herself a drink. Talking about the women I’ve dated is the last talkfest I want to have with my mother. The situation, the women I was involved with, is awkward enough.

  I clear my throat, hoping to dispose of the uneasiness. “We’re just friends. She’s young and—”

  “Honey, honey,” she interrupts. “She isn’t that young. And so what if she’s a few years behind you? She’s full of life, and she obviously likes you … and from the way you’ve been staring since she walked away, I’d say the feeling is mutual. She reminds me of Georgia. Look how good she is for Archer.”

  “Georgia and Archer are different.” I slip my hands into my jean pockets. “Archer has his life together, and his past isn’t as fucked up as mine.”

  My mother’s fair-tinted face falls while she captures my hand in hers. “I’m sorry for what happened, but in order to be happy, you have to move on from the past. We’re suffering the same pain—in different ways but still similar. I want you to rise above it more than I want it for myself. All it takes for you is a reason, an incentive, a realization that not everyone will judge you for your past.”

  “I know; I know.” The thought still sends nausea through my stomach.

  Thankfully, Archer and Georgia walk in, interrupting our conversation. The surprise is delayed this time, happening a good minute after they come into view, and everyone cracks up in laughter. Archer, not appearing one bit surprised, thanks everyone for coming.

  Georgia ordered a taco bar that I picked up on my way to the lake, and Lola brought enough drinks to last us a week. We eat, drink, and celebrate my brother’s birthday.

  As the sunset transitions into darkness, I say good-bye to my mother and grandparents and walk outside. I accept the bite of the wind as I stroll down the wooden dock and settle myself on the edge. Shutting my eyes, I soak up the silence and absorb the semblance of my surroundings. There’s something about the lake, the rhythmic echo of the water, that lends a hand to your psyche and relaxes you.

  Yet at the same time, the solitude of the water forces you to remember.

  The two-story home, complete with a wraparound porch and wall-to-wall windows, has been in the Callahan family since my grandfather bought it in his thirties. It’s been renovated a few dozen times by my mother, whose interior style is a revolving door of changes.

  After my grandfather’s death, the home was passed down to my father. It was supposed to keep that same course—the home being passed down from generation to generation. Too bad that didn’t last. The feds wanted it, and before they managed to get their grimy hands on one of my favorite childhood destinations, my mother’s parents stepped in and purchased it from my father. That way, it could stay in the family, and we wouldn’t lose yet another thing. The lake house is modest compared to our other family homes, but it was my grandfather’s pride and joy. We’d already annihilated the business he’d built from the ground up; we couldn’t lose the lake house too.

  “Hey, party of one out here.”

  I glance back to find Cassidy stopping behind me.

  “Can I join you?”

  I pat the space next to me. “Sure.”

  If it were anyone else, even Archer, who’d asked that question, I’d have told them I needed alone time. But not with Cassidy. I’ll never decline a second with her. Like the serenity of the lake, she’s practically a sedative for me. And this isn’t about me being codependent with a girl; it’s about being around someone who shines so fucking bright that I can’t help but be zapped with her energy.

  About a woman I can sit here with, not say a word, and she’d understand.

  Or I could ramble off about the most random shit, and she’d understand.

  Or I could ask her to leave, and she’d also understand.

  Cassidy is understanding, and in the world of the rich and felons, that isn’t a common trait.

  She plops down next to me, our shoulders brushing as she settles herself. “This is gorgeous.” With a sigh, she leans back on her elbows and lifts her head, studying the open sky. “I could stay out here all night and take in the stillness of this place.”

  “This is where my father’s ashes were spread.” The words, unrelenting, spill from my lips like a waterfall.

  Fuck!

  Regret seeps up my throat.

  I should’ve kept that to myself.

  Way to morbid the night up, Linc.

  “Oh.” Dead air passes before her voice softens, and she stretches out her arm to rest her hand over mine. “That has to be hard.”

  That’s an understatement.

  It ripped me apart.

  I was close with my father.

  After graduating college, I took over the VP position at Callahan Holdings since Archer refused to. My father and I worked together every day and got along great, and then he hired Phil, his longtime friend. His shady friend who had too many ideas but not enough sense.

  That friend convinced my father he could avoid repercussions from breaking the law because he was rich and had a company to stand behind. I warned him, threatened the friend, begged my father day after day to stop. It generated a wire of tension between us that was never uncut. He was breaking the law, and all I could do was sit back and watch the fire spread, praying to the good man above that my father would come to his senses. Archer, not giving a shit about family loyalty, resigned the moment he found out.

  Me? I stayed. Callahan Holdings had been ingrained in our blood, and I’d never turn my back on blood.

  Then I also went to prison with my father and Phil.

  “He died while serving time in prison.” Another unstoppable confession.

  “What?” There’s no stammer in her tone.

  “He was in prison, had a heart attack, and died.”

  She shifts to face me, and under the brilliance of the light seeping from the front porch, I spot the curiosity swimming in her eyes. I wait for the endless questions, but they don’t come. Cassidy, my mind-reading confidant, understands I’m here to reflect upon my past, my father, and not confess the wrongdoings of a man who’s no longer with us.

  “It’s nice he can rest somewhere so peaceful … so pretty.”

  I nod. “It is.”

  I never perceived it that way, but Cassidy has a point. My father loved the lake; it was his resting place, so it only makes sense it’s where he was finally laid to rest. Criminal or not, he deserved a proper good-bye, a proper place for his soul to reside.

  Cassidy, the girl who never stops talking and bullshitting, sits silently next to me. Eventually, she rests her head on the crook of my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her back, tugging her closer to me, nearly on my lap.

  “You cold?” I ask, peering down as she rubs her hand over her goose bump–covered arm.

  “A little,” she whispers.

  I tighten my grip on her, hoping to transfer a sliver of my body heat, and run my hand up and down her arm—similar to what she was doing. Her skin is soft, smooth like the organic apples my mom overpays for. When the goose bumps don’t disappear, and she shivers, I slowly pull away, already missing her warmth, and stand.

  I hold out my hand, and there’s no hesitation before she takes it, allowing me to pull her to her feet. Only inches separate us. Our breaths meet, and my heart thrashes against my chest in uncertainty of what’s to come.

  She licks her lips.

  I do the same.

  The desire of this woman cuts through my veins, as if it’s begging to be let free.

  I inhale a deep breath.

  No, I can’t ruin our friendship.

  I lower my voice, swiping flyaway strands of hair from her eyes. “My sidekick.”

  “Your sidekick,” she whispers.

  Without t
hinking, without considering the repercussions of such a reckless move, I bow my head and rest my forehead against hers.

  “Lincoln.” She says my name in a shaky breath.

  Her voice. That tone. It ruins me.

  It’s the push that leads me to drop my lips to hers.

  She kisses me back, her lips plump and soft.

  As we kiss, it’s as if she’s breathing life back into me.

  Yet also casting a calmness alongside it.

  When she opens her mouth, sliding her tongue along the seam of my lips, reality shatters through me.

  My head spins when I break our connection, retreat a step, and catch my breath. “Shit, Cass. I’m so sorry.”

  This time, she’s caressing my arm while appearing unfazed by my pulling away. “No, it’s fine.” A hint of a smile crosses her face. “In fact, I’m down to do it again.”

  I hesitate.

  That urge that caused me to kiss her moments ago resurfaces.

  My mouth already misses the taste of hers.

  “Yo! Party ditchers!” Finn calls out into the night from the back porch. “Get your asses in here!”

  And just like that, Finn saves us from ruining our friendship.

  “I’m going to punch him,” Cassidy grumbles. “In the balls. Then the kneecaps. Then the balls again for good measure.”

  I chuckle, and my hand is sweaty when I grab hers. I wait for her reaction—whether she’ll tug away, try to kiss me again, or ask about the kiss. With a sigh, she squeezes my hand, and I lead her back into the house, where everyone, except Georgia and Archer, are in the living room. Drinks are in their hands, and some trivia show is playing on the TV, all of them screaming answers at the contestant.

  “We thought you guys had gotten lost out there,” Finn says, falling down on the couch next to Grace.

  “Prepare to have mosquito bites out the ass,” Lola comments, shuddering as she peers back at us from the front of the couch. “Those things are brutal around here.”

  Finn slides his hands together. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m exhausted. The birthday boy has retired to his bedroom, and that means we can crash at any time.” He does a once-over of the room.